Pulse
by Firelye
Summary: Harry and Severus thought once Voldemort died, they'd finally have the opportunity to live normal lives, preferably far away from each other.  They couldn't have been more wrong.  Apprentice fic, not slash.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary:_ Pulsing was nothing short of Dark, highly addictive, and drew upon the life and magic of the practitioner. It was only natural for it to take the magical world by storm. Apprentice/Guardian, not slash

_-~PULSE~-  
Chapter One_

The Minister of Magic looked positively smug as he slapped his file of papers down upon the headmaster's desk.

A visit from the Jack Russell of a minister was the best way he could imagine beginning his summer. Dumbledore strove to maintain his genial expression in the face of the new head of state, but the task was becoming increasingly difficult with every passing moment. These days he found himself missing former Minister Fudge. The man was an idiot, but a predictable one nonetheless. Fudge did favor his benefactors, Lucius Malfoy in particular, but he nevertheless kept any unbiased actions away from public view.

Minister Oramando Heller, on the other hand, hated any and every person who could possibly threaten his power, and he did not hesitate sharing his feelings very publicly. His election to office was still a mystery to the headmaster, a mistake brought about by the windfall after Voldemort's demise, courtesy of the headmaster himself. And now, even the Malfoys faced Heller's wrath.

Dumbledore perused the thick packet seemingly at his leisure, and yet Heller's haughty smile never wavered. He merely clasped his hands behind his back and observed as Dumbledore's frown grew.

"Surely you cannot expect this to go unchallenged?" Dumbledore asked.

The smile grew, "Honestly, Headmaster. The punishments for those involved in this horrific incident are nothing if not justified. Surely you do not wish to hold them above school rules. Those on the list were proven to have left school grounds with neither permission nor supervision and then broke into the Ministry, leading a horde of Death Eaters in with them. They then helped wanted criminal Sirius Black to escape. They are lucky to not be facing criminal charges and proceedings. Given that they are so young, however, I succeeded in convincing the Wizengamot sub-committee and the Board of Governors to allow this specialized form of punishment. You have no basis for challenge."

The headmaster scowled, "And why, then, is Draco Malfoy on the list? He did not attend the ministry."

"But he was integral in their _escape_ from Hogwarts. Especially as the leader of the former Inquisitor's student based foundation group, his actions are more than fraudulent."

"In what way? I would like copies of your evidence against the entire list before I allow this arrangement. Mr. Malfoy, in point, as you said, was even a favored of the Ministry's representative here last term."

"A former ministry, Headmaster," Heller snapped, before his face instantly reverted back to arrogance with a tad of calm. "The matter of the arrangement has already been settled; you are to take steps immediately so that once term begins the delinquent individuals will not negatively affect the rest of the student body. If you so desire, I can return Madame Umbridge to your employ?"

Dumbledore nodded his refusal. This set up was more than enough punishment for his staff without further exposing them to that harridan. The Ministry was already taken unprecedented liberties with their right to chose, or to not chose, an apprentice.

"Very well, then. You will receive copies of the evidence, post haste, but head my warning, do not wait to make action upon this. You have the list of professors approved, one for each student. The main requirement is no Head of House is to be placed with a member of their house. Good day, headmaster."

Heller turned to leave, pausing momentarily at the doorway and half-turning back to Dumbledore. "Do not think of this as a punishment for the _children_. It is a chance for guidance and to grow into well rounded individuals, to be guided away from this natural aptitude for crime."

Once the flames settled, Dumbledore sighed, placing the list of students next to that of the lucky teachers approved for the task. He wasn't sure which he looked forward to less, telling the professors or the students.

Smirking to himself, he visualized the perfect (if a bit cowardly) way to inform his professors without facing their collective wrath all at once. He removed several sheets of parchment from his desk and set to penning their notices.

_To my esteemed staff,_

_ On the subject of apprentices…._

_-~PULSE~-_

"Headmaster, are you in here?"

Dumbledore cringed at his deputy's question, scowling to himself as she led two of his other Heads of Houses as well as his Arithmancy professor into his office. He hoped the knowledge that the professors would be forced to take on apprentices would be shock enough to keep them from organizing their questions and arriving en masse. Alas it was not; he quickly began mentally drafting his will. Hopefully, Minerva would forgive him enough to perform a touching eulogy. There would probably be a mad fight for his office.

'_But Ministry, I cannot possible take on an apprentice with all my new duties as headmaster/headmistress,' _they would no doubt say as they fought to avoid the Ministry's arrangement.

"Headmaster?" McGonagall intoned, though not in the fond manner he'd become accustomed to.

"My lemon drops would probably get quite lonely all by their lonesome. I shudder to think of their fate should something tragic happen to me," Dumbledore mentioned offhandedly.

"How can they do such a thing?" McGonagall demanded, slapping the packet of the Headmaster's letters onto his desk. He was lost for a moment thinking she meant the candies.

The tiny charms professor stepped forward. "I quite agree," Flitwick's old voice squeaked, "The bond between Master and Apprentice is not to be taken lightly or to be forced upon us by outside forces!"

"Honestly," McGonagall continued, "These children were certainly out of line, but they were well intentioned. Why is the Ministry interfering with their punishment at all? And why penalize us in the process? Had it not been for that sorry excuse Umbridge, they would have never been able to leave in the first place. And even without that little fact, the children's misbehavior sparked the downfall of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named."

Dumbledore wondered if Voldemort's old name should now be put into past tense but wisely refrained from voicing it. He dove into the matter at hand. "Officially, the method will best involve us in correcting their behavior," the headmaster pinched the bridge of his nose, "Unofficially, Malfoy Sr.'s attorneys brought down Heller's attention and wrath. In an attempt to excuse his presence, they mentioned our lack of supervision."

"Oramando Heller is simply a petty little bastard of a man who envies those with more intelligence than he!" Pomona claimed vehemently. The other teachers turned to her with surprised expressions, she shrank further within herself, "Well it is true. He was the same way while we were at Hogwarts together. He takes the most pleasure in making those who challenge him quite uncomfortable." She nodded for emphasis.

"Nevertheless," Dumbledore regained their attention, "I have Hogwarts' retained attorneys going over the demands, but it does not look promising, their preliminary judgment is that we must comply. Furthermore, the Ministry demands immediate action. We must divide the students amongst you and inform their parents."

The professors looked ready to start round two with their employer. The headmaster spied the Arithmancy professor looking around the room questioningly.

"Problem, Septima?" he asked.

"Where is Severus?" Professor Vector questioned, "I thought he'd be the first to bang down your door."

"Ah," Dumbledore flushed slightly, "He has been excused from this matter."

"Excused?" McGonagall asked hotly.

Dumbledore flushed lightly, "Heller seems to believe Severus would not be the best suited for this arrangement."

"We are all not suited for it," McGonagall countered, "This entire ordeal is completely illogical!"

"Minerva!" he chastised, fixing her with his gaze, silently telling her to drop the subject.

"Fine," she relented with bad humor, "I'm sure Severus will be pleased to be placed so high above the rest of us."

"Well," Vector intervened, "the list of students could have been worse. Both Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy are excellent in my class. In fact the only students who are even average in any of their classes are the two Weasleys and Mr. Potter." She picked up the letters, including the master lists from the Ministry, "Mr. Longbottom could go with you, Pomona. Oh, and Miss Weasley to you Filius? Minerva, due to the head of house restriction, you will need either Mr. Malfoy or Ms Lovegood."

McGonagall grimaced.

"Perhaps Mr. Malfoy, then? And Ms Lovegood should fit well with Professor Sinistra. Yes, Aurora and she will do quite well together." Her brows furrowed, "Moody is returning to teach defense? Well Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley would both do well with him, leaving the other with, Hagrid. Poor lads. It's almost like losing a prize by being placed with Hagrid."

"Does seem rather unbalanced," Dumbledore conceded. "I will speak with the Minister's 'committee' about that. No offense to Hagrid, you understand, but he is not at all qualified for the role. They haven't even recanted his magic-ban. Let's keep his name from being mentioned as a Master," he met the other professor's gazes. They all nodded in agreement. None of them wished to hurt the gentle half-giant.

The other professors took leave of the headmaster, accepting defeat temporarily. Most of their fight was on principle as many of them hadn't taken apprentices in a very long time leaving them rather open to the idea. McGonagall remained behind to confront the headmaster individually.

"There must be something we can do, Albus? This is an invasion both the staffs' and the students' rights."

Dumbledore nodded before smiling, the previously absent twinkle returning full force, "Are you not just upset to be pinned with Mr. Malfoy?"

Her lips pinched, "Speaking of Slytherins, why is Severus excused from this charade?"

Dumbledore's eyes turned sad, filling with disappointment directed just as inward as at the situation. "I have not asked the Minister specifically, but he has made it no secret his derogatory opinions of Severus."

"He doesn't like him?" McGonagall practically screeched, that is it would have been a screech if her prim demeanor actually allowed for such an act, "Severus escapes possibly the most unprecedented and invasive stampede through our privacy as a reward for being, on the whole, an arrogant bastard?"

"Minerva," Dumbledore chastised gently, "It is hardly in his favor that Hagrid was chosen before him in this intellectual arena, as it were. Poor Severus seems to have drawn the short stick once again. I had so hoped things after Voldemort's demise would be different for him. Poor Mr. Weasley as well."

"Then you plan to put Mr. Potter with Alastor?" McGonagall asked skeptically. "This is not one of your better ideas, Albus. Mr. Potter does not have the best repertoire with Alastor, nor does he wish to become an Auror. Mr. Weasley, however, does."

"Harry needs the defensive training. There are many Death Eaters waiting to avenge their Lord, or even to try to bring him back. None of our students are precisely taken with Care of Magical Creatures, and after all Harry has done for us, does he not deserve the better of the two remaining Masters?"

"Mr. Weasley was alongside Mr. Potter almost every step of the way. For every real challenge, he was there," McGonagall pointed a stern finger harshly against Dumbledore's wooden desk, "Every single one of these children has, in one way or another, had their childhood ripped from them. None of them deserves to be treated better than any other." She grimaced lightly, "Mr. Malfoy does not fall neatly into the group, however."

"That's your apprentice you are demeaning," the headmaster smiled before rubbing his beard speculatively, "Severus is by far a better candidate for a Master. He could offer an apprentice instruction in Potions, of course, perhaps defense, or even charms. A refresher in that area would be necessary, I suppose."

Minerva straightened her robes. "Yes, yes, he is one of the most multi-faceted professors on staff," she agreed with excess nonchalance. "If you cannot convince the Minister to change his list, what relevance are his qualifications?" she challenged.

Dumbledore grinned mischievously, adding an odd aura of youth to his worn face, "I believe I may know of a way for the minister to be persuaded." He leaned his forearms upon his desk, "Heller is a fool many times over, but he is not without a mind for strategy. I'd be hard to convince he did not anticipate the way we paired off our masters and apprentices. And so he knows Harry will either be placed with an Auror he is not suited for or a Professor whose only knowledge to pass on is not suited for him either."

"Mr. Weasley wants to become an Auror," McGonagall mentioned once more; she knew it would be torture for all those involved to place Harry in any sort of partnership with the old Auror.

If the headmaster heard her or not, he showed no sign. He rubbed his hands slowly together as McGonagall looked on in confusion, "Yes, Heller will definitely go for it. First, we need to have all of the apprentices brought to Hogwarts."

_-~PULSE~-_

Five of the ministry six, six of seven if you counted Malfoy (which most wouldn't) sat around the staff meeting table. Ron and Hermione whispered to each other, wondering where the third part of their trio could be. Neville and Ginny openly stared at Malfoy Sr. and Jr., wondering why they were present. The Malfoys wondered them same. Luna merely sat calmly between Neville and Ginny, wondering why the Nargles were mysteriously absent.

The Headmaster, accompanied by his deputy as well as the Minister joined the party scarce minutes later.

"Where is Harry Potter, Headmaster? Trying to exclude your Golden Boy?" Heller accused, quickly noting the Boy Who Lived's absence.

Malfoy Sr. stepped forward before Dumbledore could answer. "I demand to know the meaning of all of this!" he tossed the incitation upon the table with so much force is skidded to the center.

"Straight to the heart of the matter then?" Dumbledore inquired genially. "And no, Minister, Mr. Potter could not make it to this meeting, but, never fear, he will be included." He turned to address the table fully, "As outlined in your invitations, resulting your behavior surrounding the events of the Ministry, it has been decided you all require more guidance than Hogwarts has previously provided."

"It was because of us you were there to take down Voldemort," Ron blurted out, earning a stern look from his head of house.

The headmaster smiled, "None of us here doubt the worth of your bravery. However, certain parties worry without interference, negative characteristics of your actions will easily flourish within all of you." The apprentices appeared confused.

"Interference?" Hermione questioned.

"An apprenticeship," Dumbledore responded simply.

The reactions varied greatly. Luna remained unperturbed, Hermione looked gleefully expectant, Neville was confused, and surprisingly enough Ron, Ginny, and Draco shared the same disturbed countenance.

"My son will not be forced into an apprenticeship!" the long-haired Malfoy thundered.

The Minister sneered, "Your son is lucky to not be charged criminally. And as I am sure you already are aware, your lawyers arguments against this were all overruled, though I do commend them on their filing speed. Young Mr. Malfoy will be included in this course of action."

The vein at old Malfoy's temple pulsed, "Then I demand to know why there is not one suitable Master on the list?"

Dumbledore placed a subtle hand on McGonagall's wrist to calm her temper while, mentally, he grinned from ear to ear. He always could count on Malfoy.

"I believe he means, why are there no Slytherins? Really, Lucius, I thought house trivialities died with Voldemort." Mind-Dumbledore sat back and rubbed his hands together with glee. The apprentices turned their heads back and forth as if at a tennis match, watching every turn.

The Minister glared at the Headmaster and Malfoy Sr. in turn, "There is a noticeable shortage of Slytherins on Hogwarts staff."

"And what of Severus Snape?" McGonagall piped in.

Heller looked ready to argue before L. Malfoy joined in, "Why has Severus been excluded? He is by far more qualified than the rest of your list."

"That is precisely why," Heller lied smoothly, "I did not wish to give an advant-"

"I demand Severus be one of the choices. It is outrageous you would exclude a war hero based on old prejudices!" And Lucius's ire had nothing to do with not being able to have Severus as Draco's Master. Although, as a side advantage, he figured he could convince the other Slytherin to botch or disregard the Master/Apprentice bond whereas any other professor was too straight-laced to even consider lying to the Ministry.

It was simply unfortunate Lucius was not aware Severus' head of Slytherin status kept him from Draco even if he was on the list.

Heller's jaw visibly clinched, "Fine, you want Severus?" He grabbed the list of Master/Apprentice pairs he forced the Headmaster to provide. Dumbledore's inner glee faded slightly as he thought of the Masters' and Apprentices' reactions to the list. A small smile graced Heller's pudgy features as he tapped the list. The parchment glowed briefly.

"There is your finalized list," he addressed the apprentices next, "Enjoy your summer becoming acquainted with your new masters."

_-~PULSE~-_

There was something equally soothing and frustrating about waiting for a kettle to boil. The tiny bubbles that eventually sprang from the depths of deceptively calm water could bring forth such a feeling of primal accomplishment for you had conquered natural energy and transferred it in accordance to your will. As the tiny bubbles gave way to a rolling boil within his clear pot, he believed he was perhaps becoming odd as Albus.

Once the kettle had sat upon his Muggle style burner as long as it could without defying some physics, it finally started to wail. Severus removed it and set to preparing his teapot and cups.

Several minutes later, he was finally able to sit upon the worn but well taken care of couch in his quarters with a cup of his favorite tea. His was by far the best prepared by any of the teachers within Hogwarts, a fact he accepted with little grace and accredited to his more Muggle method of preparation, instilled in him by his mother at an early age.

Perhaps it was the distinctive smell of the tea or the coming down from the stress of the end of the dark lord rolled with the end of another school year, but Severus found himself feeling quite reminiscent in the scarcely lit room.

His childhood before Hogwarts, and every summer thereafter, had been nothing short of odd by all standards.

Severus' father had been a Muggle himself but with supreme interest in the occult. Tobias Snape was a harsh man dissatisfied with his rewards in life and full of envy for his magical wife and son. When Severus was young, Tobias had been cold, not allowing them to form much of a bond.

As a teenager, Severus came home one summer to discover his father had developed his own sort of magic. The process, which he'd been overjoyed to share with Severus, was nothing short of Dark Magic. It was called Pulsing and drew upon the life and magic of the practitioner. It was very risky for a Muggle to do.

He took a sip of his tea, and it burned him.

But Tobias Snape became a new man after learning how to Pulse. He was less angry with the world for making him without magic. He stopped drinking and smoking, they were useless vices not that he'd found his newest drug.

At the tender age of thirteen, Severus was just happy he finally had a real father. His mother, even with the worry Severus could see in her eyes, was happy as well. For a few blessed years, everything seemed perfect, and it was all thanks to pulsing. Dark magic though it was, pulsing gave Severus a family. He spent hours practicing with his father expelling the addictive and powerful pulses.

Halfway through his sixth year, his father fell into a coma. Unable to meet the rising medical and living costs, his mother moved back in with her parents. Pre-pulse Tobias Snape was nothing compared to Grandfather Prince.

Severus spent most of his time away from school at his father's bedside, helpless to help the man he'd grown to love. He could not bear to be powerless. He grew angry with the doctors when they couldn't wake his father, angry with his mother for not grieving more than she did, and angry with his grandfather for banning him from pulsing.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose against the migraine brewing.

The three and a half years spent with his Muggle father performing Dark Magic were not worth the decades Tobias rested unaware nor the decades Severus spent as a Death Eater.

A familiar sensation pinched at his fingertips. Ice crystals floated at the top of his tea. Abruptly, he placed the cup upon the coffee table and rose to pace. Seeing his dueling partner in his mind's eye, he spun clockwise on his heel at the far side of the room, shoulder to palm outstretched in a perfect line. His cup exploded, ice shards all flying away from him and into the burning log, cutting through the flames in the grate. Smoke and steam flew away in tandem.

His heart beat its strong rhythm deep within his chest, and he ached for it to settle.

A knock sounded from his door. His jagged senses felt about and came back with muddled results.

_Dumbledore, then, _he concluded. "Come," Severus called out, flicking his wand to lower the wards.

"How are you doing, my dear boy?" the wizened old man asked.

Severus sneered, "Quite well, dear old man, and you?"

Dumbledore chuckled and invited himself to sit. Severus rolled his eyes and joined him.

"Am I missing something?" Severus cocked his head quizzically as he repaired his teacup.

"Paranoia is most unbecoming, Severus," Dumbledore admonished.

"So is meddling, but you haven't given up your hobby. Why should I relinquish mine?"

"Paranoid delusions are hardly a hobby."

Severus grinned thinly, "But enjoying them is. What brings you down here? Usually you call me to your forsaken tower."

The headmaster sighed, and Severus felt caught in the eye of a hurricane, the storm forming around his point whilst he waited in ignorance.

"After everything you did for the light during the war, my chest feels heavy with how I must trouble you once more, my boy."

Severus leaned forward in concern, "Do you need me to hunt down the rogue Death Eaters? Is there a chance of _Him_ returning?"

"Severus," Dumbledore stood and walked to the Potions Master's chair, placing a hand upon each shoulder, "Severus, I need you to take Harry Potter as your apprentice."

TBC…

Thanks and hope you like.

Please take the time to review/add to your alerts. Knowing people are reading motivates the writers.


	2. Chapter 2

_-~PULSE~-  
Chapter Two_

Dumbledore held his potion's master's gaze, hands upon the other man's shoulders, until his back started protesting the lean. He straightened, and Severus said nothing. The fire crackled, and Severus stared. The headmaster resisted the urge to fidget under the black gaze; he could see how a first year could have nightmares from this, and the younger man wasn't even towering over him.

"For all that's Holy in the world, say something, man!" The Headmaster snapped exasperatedly.

'Severus the statue' animated; he shook his head in disbelief. Anticipating the indignant explosion, Dumbledore aimed for some pre-emptive damage control.

"Severus, trust me, I know this is a complete mockery of the sacred bond between master and apprentice." The man's head still shook, and Severus broke the staring contest, head tilting downward to his lap. "After all that you have done for the Wizarding world, ministry included, it is unbelievable how we must force you into this, but Severus you aren't alone," Dumbledore launched a quick explanation of the ministry's demands, masterfully glossing over Severus' original exclusion and subsequent pairing with one Harry Potter. Still, the man remained silent.

"Are you going to ignore me from here on out?" Dumbledore inquired solicitously.

A low, closemouthed chuckle emanated from Severus; the older man's head snapped back from considering the room's bare walls to the top of the potion's master's head.

"Are you becoming hysterical?" he asked. The chuckle continued, and Severus finally looked up, a pale hand rising to cover his smile; his eyes were watering.

"Severus?" the Headmaster eyed him closely, clearly debating a trip to Madame Pomfrey's.

Severus made a shooing gesture and stood from his chair once the Headmaster stepped back.

"I am fine, Albus," he cast an amused yet disapproving look in the headmaster's direction. "You came in here with the end of the world on your coattails. Forgive me if I'm relieved it is only the apocalypse of one small island." Dumbledore felt the odd mix of disbelief and relief wash over him. Both Minerva and Severus were fearsome arguers, nearly impossible to quell on the rare times they agreed. He didn't relish the opportunity of facing off against them both in the same day.

"Besides," Severus continued as he once again began preparing tea, "the answer is no."

Dumbledore blinked. _Damn_. He should have realized even his own supernatural luck could not stretch so far as an agreeable Snape. After all, Hell hadn't frozen over, yet.

"Severus, as I explained, the Ministry has left us no choice. If we do not follow their orders, Azkaban will be in our future."

"Azkaban for refusing to take an apprentice? The media would have a veritable field day with that one," he sneered and placed his kettle to boil wincing when he set it down harder than he intended. "The answer remains: No."

Albus cringed at both Severus' harsh treatment of the pot and the predicted headlines.

"Severus, we were able to keep you from Azkaban for baring the Dark Mark, but I doubt for defying Heller will be as easy." He closed in on Severus' kitchenette and adjusted the kettle to better sit upon the stove. "One of these days, you well have to tell me what you did to make Heller hate you so much," he muttered.

Severus pretended not to hear him.

The headmaster peered quizzically at the Potion's Master. The dark haired man's body was coiled with tension; his temple throbbed in time with his heart beat.

"You're the second Slytherin I've seen with a vibrating forehead today," he idly commented.

Severus' hand flew to his temple. "Only two?" he asked acidly. "I don't take apprentices, Albus. And Potter?" he scoffed. "That boy doesn't have a single shred of talent for potions in him. You wish to doom me to an unsuccessful first apprenticeship? Bouncing back from that is unheard of!"

"Mr. Potter, despite your beliefs, is a bright lad full of potential. Give him half a chance, and I guarantee you, he will surprise you."

"I'm not interested in any surprises he has to offer," Severus countered.

"You wouldn't have to be his master in potions," the Headmaster offered, "In fact, I was honestly hoping you would take him as your total apprentice, instruct him in all of your mastered fields."

"Are we forgetting Occulmency?" Severus asked, his temper bleeding into his voice. Dumbledore saw the light flicker in Severus' eyes with an assumed moment of _eureka. _"_You_ planned this!" Severus accused.

Albus looked reproachful, "I am guilty of manipulating a great many people and situations but only and always for a specific reason. Right now, I am only guilty of massive damage control. Quite honestly, I had to place you with Mr. Potter. The list was set; the others were paired leaving Alastor, you, and Messers Potter and Weasley.

"And of the apprentices you could have had…would you have preferred Mr. Longbottom? Miss Lovegood? The Head of House restriction prevents you from becoming Mr. Malfoy's Master. And let's not forget Miss Granger."

"Small miracles," Severus muttered. He turned his back to the Headmaster, hunching with his hands upon the sink rim, "You're going to force me aren't you?"

"I don't want to, but given our restraints, you are perfect for being his Master." He leaned a hand next to Severus on the counter, "Who would be better to protect him from the remaining Death Eaters and train him to fight them at the same time?"

Severus glared coldly, "Stop trying to convince me to be happy about this." He sighed, resigned to his fate. He was doomed to protecting Potter for at least the rest of his own life. "I'll do it," he whirled around and fixed a long finger in the older wizard's face, "But it is going to be on my terms. You don't get to interfere, old man. If I am his Master then it will be in accordance with the traditional rules and my own wishes, got it?"

Dumbledore raised his hands in surrender, "As you wish. No interference will come from this old man."

Severus nodded decisively, wondering why he never could refuse the man and what the Hell he was getting into.

"One more thing, though," Dumbledore mentioned after several minutes of silence.

Severus rolled his eyes and heaved forth a long sigh, "What else could you possibly add?"

The headmaster smiled tightly, "I need you to accompany me to inform Mr. Potter."

-~Pulse~-

Harry ran two dirt covered hands through his thick mop of hair. He could still hear the occasional grumble from his uncle downstairs. Hedwig hooted apologetically from her cage and nipped his fingers softly when he reached inside to smooth her feathers.

"It's not your fault girl," he soothed, "You couldn't have known he was watching."

Harry's last task for the day had been backyard maintenance. It was hot outside and the only thing not dull was the bright sun; he'd longed for a distraction. He'd kept himself motivated by imagining how nice a hot, though quick, shower would feel once he'd finished.

And he would have had that shower, too, if halfway though his raking, a Hogwarts owl hadn't swooped into the yard. The ornery owl wouldn't accept that Harry had no treats for her. Hedwig then rushed in to defend Harry from the near-feral animal. The two birds made an ungodly racket. Harry's Uncle Vernon charged out from the house and shooed away the owls before yelling at Harry about stupid, freaky owls disturbing the neighbors. Vernon Dursley then bent to retrieve the fallen letter. The parchment jumped around and spit at the large man. Infuriated, he dragged Harry into the house and locked him into his room. Harry sighed, grabbed his water bottle from beneath his bed, and resigned himself to not getting a shower before the morning.

Then the letter slipped through the crack between his window and the sill. The missive didn't tell him who the masters would be, just that he was required to become an apprentice to one of the Hogwarts professors, and that it wouldn't be Professor McGonagall.

They summoned him to a meeting at Hogwarts. Due to his incarcerated state and lack of ride to the train station, he missed that meeting. He wondered if he would be in trouble for that when he finally made it back to school.

A loud knock carried through the house. Harry glanced out the window, there were no vehicles in the driveway or by the street, and he couldn't quite see whoever was waiting at the door.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon's angry voice called. Harry jumped up and tried the door, it was still locked.

Steps ascended the stairs, and, moments later, Harry's aunt opened the door, startling Harry into nearly toppling over her.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

Her horse like face crinkled in disgust, eyes glancing to his hair. "Come on, you have guests." She turned to head back down the stairs. "Why didn't you bathe once you finished with yard?" Harry rolled his eyes and followed silently.

"Professor Dumbledore," he greeted, surprised but pleased to see the old wizard. Harry surveyed the Muggle attired man. Somehow, Dumbledore managed to make a tweed suit look flamboyant.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and noticed his aunt glaring at someone positioned further in the sitting room.

Upon seeing his second visitor, he bit back an expletive. "Snape," he greeted shortly. Surprisingly enough, Snape nodded curtly in return to his greeting. He half hoped his uncle thought he was on good terms with the frightening wizard.

Snape was never a sloppy person, but today he seemed even sharper. The professor wore a smart, crisp suit, in black of course, with his hair clean looking and tied back from his face. After his nod to Harry, he resumed his staring contest with Petunia Dursley. Unlike Harry's aunt, however, his face was carefully blank.

Vernon Dursley re-entered the room, face red like a ripe tomato.

"Mr. Dursley, we apologize once again," Snape snorted but the Headmaster smoothly continued, "We mailed Mr. Potter earlier-"

"So that was your ruddy bird?" Vernon snapped.

"Yes, sir, so you did receive my letter?"

"Bloody envelope bit me!" Harry swore he could see a small smile on Snape's face. "And stop that one," Dursley pointed accusatorily at Snape, "from staring at my wife!"

Snape blinked and looked to Harry's uncle. "Would you prefer for me to stare at _you,_ Vernon?" he sneered.

"Why are you even here, Snape?" Vernon demanded and Petunia nodded in agreement.

"Can't a professor visit his _best_ and _favorite_ student?" he asked, laying on the sarcasm so thick Harry suspected he'd need boots to cross the room. Harry eyed his teacher, earning himself a questioning brow.

"Favorite student?" Vernon asked, not catching the professor's sarcasm. "You really are a freak, boy." Snape's jaw clinched. The room temperature dropped.

"Now, now," Dumbledore intervened before either of his boys lost their temper, "We are here for a simple discussion regarding my letter." Harry nodded his understanding. "May we speak Harry alone for a moment?"

"No!" Vernon bellowed. "I will not leave you freaks unsupervised in my own home. Especially you!" he pointed at Severus.

Harry looked on in confusion; his aunt and uncle looked upon his professor with dislike and disgust, but familiarity as well. The professor in turn somehow knew the best ways to infuriate his uncle.

"And if I promise not to touch anything?" Severus asked in his best impression of a saccharine voice.

"Severus," Dumbledore warned. The older wizard sighed, "I guess we will have to do things your way." He waived his wand minutely, shifting the wood solely with his wrist movements. Petunia and Vernon's eyes glazed over before the two fell backwards, landing with a loud thump. "There," the Headmaster smiled briefly. "Why don't we all adjourn to the kitchen?"

Both Harry and Dumbledore took seats at the large kitchen table. Severus held back at the door frame, waiting for Dumbledore to explain their presence.

"So, my boy, how have you been?" the headmaster asked, for the entire world seeming as if the sitting room scene hadn't happened.

"I'm fine, Sir," Harry replied simply while nervously glancing between his headmaster and professor, as if concluding a difficult inner debate, he leaned forward to involve himself further in the conversation. "Actually, sir," he cleared his throat, "As I am sure you noticed, my relatives don't really want me here. Ron's invited me loads before to stay at the Burrow. Can't I go there?" He was puzzled by Snape's smirk.

"You did read my letter, Harry, didn't you?" the Headmaster inquired gently.

"Of course I did," Harry replied. He looked over to Snape, and things finally dawned on him. "Snape?" he incredulously asked Dumbledore. At Snape's raised brow, he realized he didn't want to anger the professor further should he really be his apprentice and hastily added, "He hates me, Headmaster. I can't be his apprentice!"

"Professor Snape doesn't hate you," Dumbledore soothed even as Severus made a suspiciously snort-ish sound. Dumbledore turned to Severus and tilted his head to Harry, encouraging his Potions Master to speak.

"I do not," Severus allowed, though Harry seemed far from convinced.

"So you see," the Headmaster continued jovially spinning in his chair back to the youngest wizard, "You two are perfect for each other."

"And you are okay with this?" Harry disbelievingly questioned Severus.

"I believe the Professor Dumbledore has excellent judgment on most matters," Severus conceded. Harry nodded but furrowed his brow in consternation. He was by far not happy with the situation, but he would only be at Hogwarts for two more years and when it came down to it, his match could've been worse.

"Then I suppose that's settled, then," Harry commented dryly. He perked up almost instantly, "So, do you think I'll be able to stay with the Ron?" Sounds from the Dursley's awakening were heard from the other room. Severus left the kitchen to check on them.

Dumbledore leaned forward, "Harry, Ron won't be at home for the rest of the summer. He will be staying with his new Master, Professor Moody."

"Why does Ron have to stay with him during the summer?" Harry asked in a slightly panicked voice, thinking of being forced into close quarters with Severus. "I thought this whole apprentice deal was for the school year; like being an assistant or something."

The wizened wizard rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Or something. Perhaps I should explain further. An apprenticeship, especially a magical one, is more than becoming an assistant. Of course, you are expected to assist your Master as part of your training, but in many ways the Master/Apprentice bond is closer than that of even a parent and child. Your master is your educator, care-giver, and protector.

"The relationship is amongst the most sacred in our culture, which is why true apprenticeships are so rare these days."

A high pitched shriek wailed from the sitting room, piercing Harry's eardrums.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, SNAPE!" Harry flinched at his Uncle's rasped voice resonating through the walls. The kitchen wizards stood, Dumbledore leading the way to the source of the sound.

Harry stopped just short of colliding with the Headmaster's back. The fission between the two banes of Harry's life (other than the late Lord Voldemort) gaped even further than it had pre-Dursley naptime. Vernon Dursley had retrieved his hand pistol (a replacement for the shot gun Hagrid destroyed years earlier), and was busy aiming it at Snape's head. His hand was eerily steady.

"You dreadful, boy," Petunia spat, "How dare you come into our home? No wonder Harry is your favorite student, he's just as sneaky and peculiar as you are!"

Severus' left arm was laced with tension as he aimed his wand at the pair; all the room's occupants' breaths came out as white puffs of air.

"Severus!" Dumbledore warned harshly, the younger wizard remained on guard. The Headmaster crossed the room in quick strides and placed a hand on the potion master's wand-wielding arm. "Let's go, Severus," he murmured, knowing little else would calm him in such a situation. He ushered Severus to the doorway.

"We will return later with paperwork, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said once just inside the exit.

Severus popped his head back in, looking straight to the still armed Muggle, "I don't know what you planned on doing with that," he narrowed his eyes at the firearm, "_fish._"

The door closed and the remaining occupants looked down in tandem. Vernon squealed spectacularly and tossed the offending minnow/pistol to the ground.

"Vernon! Not on my floor!" Petunia screeched, picking up the offending fish and throwing it to Harry. "Your favorite teacher left it," she sneered, "Deal with it, boy!" Harry sighed as if put out and wisely waited until he was outside before laughing.

Perhaps apprenticing to Snape wouldn't be such a bad deal after all. Well, he reconsidered, at least not all of the time.

Several hours later, after his uncle had blown up and simmered down, Harry finally got his shower.

He scrubbed his hair ruthlessly, trying to expel the dust that settled with his sweat earlier in the day. There had to be some way of escaping the apprenticeship. Harry reasoned the only explanation for Snape's moderately civil behavior earlier had been the presence of perhaps the one person on the planet Snape hated more than Harry, his Uncle Vernon. He couldn't imagine coming out of two years living with Snape unscathed.

He dressed in his bathrobe, starting to towel dry his hair as he walked to his room. The towel draped over his eyes as he closed the thin wooden door behind him. He shivered at the coolness of the air in his room.

"Really Mr. Potter, your awareness leaves something to be desired," an unfortunately familiar voice purred smugly.

"Gahh!" Harry screamed and fell back to the door frame as he ripped the towel from his head. There, at his own spindly desk, sat his absolute least favorite teacher, Muggle-fied and cockily twirling Harry's own wand. "Snape? What the hell are you doing here?"

"At least you're clean this time," he let the lack of title and disrespectful question pass. "The Headmaster did say we would bring you some paperwork."

"Is Dumbledore here?" He stupidly looked around the mostly barren room for the tall, typically brightly-clad wizard.

"Yes," Snape sneered, "can't you see his foot sticking from beneath the bed?"

"Give me my wand! How did you even get in here?" he demanded, losing his resolve to make peace with his to-be master.

Severus made a mental note to teach the boy proper wand etiquette as he tossed the boy his magic stick. He pulled a tightly rolled scroll from within his jacket. "These are the apprentice measures," he said shortly. "Dumbledore tells me you need further information on what this arrangement will entail. Understand this is all a formality; you have no more choice in this matter than I do."

"You didn't choose to be my master?" Harry asked. He was rewarded with a look clearly answering his question. He startled when Snape actually offered him a verbal response.

"The Ministry wishes it, and so it is done," his voice was mockingly blasé. "However, I do suspect our magnanimous and questionably malevolent Headmaster had some portion of his anatomy in it." Snape smirked to himself as the boy chewed on that one.

"Why are you being," Harry considered his words briefly, "semi-polite to me?"

Severus pursed his lips and looked to the heavens; second mental note: teach the boy when to not ask questions.

"You and I," Severus explained, "Are about to embark on a journey of sorts." The next statement visibly pained him. "I am willing to leave the past at the door," he paused, "if you are." Harry doubted his sincerity but agreed all the same. "What are your questions about the apprenticeship?"

Harry frowned, "I don't really know anything about it; it's never come up before, and the letter was very vague." He looked around for straws to make him seem less ignorant, "So I have to live with you, like fulltime?"

"Yes, more than less," was all Severus said on that matter. He considered the teenager for a time, "I will give you an overview. You will listen. Save any questions until I finish. Got it?"

Harry nodded. "What if I forget the question by then?" Harry asked, his head cocking to the side.

"Don't," he ordered simply. "An apprenticeship is one of the most ancient forms of instruction in our world. Ideally you would be a younger teenager or closer to twenty in the beginning, depending on the type of apprenticeship. But the age of the apprentice isn't the most important aspect.

"Your master becomes the final word in your life, even above your parents. Repercussions for anything you do wrong, minor personal infractions or actual law-breaking falls to your master for implementation. Your master also must make amends with the injured party. More serious crimes will involve the ministry, but I trust we won't have to deal with that?" Harry shook his head no. "I thought not. A single subject study can last anywhere from five to ten years. A total are study can be longer, all depending on the subjects and participants-"

"Five years?" Harry cut in incredulously. "I graduate in two; they can't force me to stick with you for longer than that!"

Severus resisted rolling his eyes. "You shouldn't raise your voice, Potter," he calmly informed, smirking nastily. "And _they_ can."

"What's going on in there?" Dudley's voice carried through.

"Nothing!" Harry snapped back. "You're bloody well of your rocker if you think I'm going to spend five years with you."

"Five to ten," Severus smiled. He was so glad he let Dumbledore talk him into speaking with the boy. 'It will help bring the two of you to terms,' the headmaster claimed. It was also a blast riling Potter up in the process.

"Someone's in there!" Dudley shouted. "Mummy!" he called, his heavy steps fading as he rushed downstairs.

Harry pulled at his still damp hair and darted into the hallway and after his cousin.

"Boy!" his uncle called him up short, "What are you doing undressed in the middle of the house? Get back up to your room."

"Harry's got someone in his room and sounds like a man!" Dudley ratted, an unmistakable look of glee covering his smudged features.

"What's wrong with you boy?" Vernon asked disgusted, "Weren't you strange enough already?" Harry gaped like a fish; his aunt the only one not assuming he was having an illicit affair with an older man. Vernon stomped to the stairs and began ascending. Harry rubbed his face and waited for the fireworks, hoping Snape somehow disapparated despite the wards Dumbledore had in place. His head snapped up as he heard Dudley loudly tumble from the stairs. His uncle was backing from the steps slowly, eyes fixated on something entering the room.

Snape stalked the man like a born predator yet with no wand drawn. His gaze was the only weapon he needed, it seemed, to keep the rotund man in his place.

"I believe you were coming to get me. I thought I would save you the trouble of going all the way to Mr. Potter's room." His voice was quite yet Harry could hear clearly him from across the room. He hadn't feared Snape since his first year at Hogwarts, but he felt the tell tale cold trickle down his spine. The room temperature of the room itself dropped, marking a pattern in Harry's eyes.

"What are you doing in my house, freak?" Vernon demanded though his shaky voice ruined any chance he had for threatening. Without his gun between the wizard and his person, his courage had evaporated.

Snape cocked his head and lifted the scroll for Vernon to see, "I need you to sign this."

"Get out of here Snape," Petunia interfered crossing to stand directly before Snape who lowered his extended arm. Harry bewilderedly realized she no more feared his professor than she did Ms. Figg's cats. The broadly built wizard was disgusting to her, but nothing she felt unprepared to handle. "We aren't signing anything you have to offer," she sneered.

Severus clicked his tongue. "Ah, ah," he chided and towered over the only slightly shorter sister of his childhood friend. "The headmaster isn't here to protect you, Mrs. Dursley," he leaned over for her to hear his soft words. "Your sister isn't here to temper me, either," he whispered.

_Thwack._ Harry blinked and wondered if perhaps his glasses were faulty. His aunt had smacked him. Aunt Petunia had struck the most feared professor of Hogwarts and had done it hard, by the way he rebounded and the looks of the hand print forming on Snape's face. The room heated drastically. Harry waited for his uncle to interfere, emboldened by the fact that his own wife could bring the tall wizard harm, but the man remained statuesque and plastered to the front door. Dudley openly gaped.

Severus gingerly touched the warmed skin of his cheek; it wasn't the first time he'd driven Lily's sister to physically attacking him. When he was younger, he'd made into a sort of game. He raised his paper, the parchment stopping just short of obscuring her eyes from his vision.

"Sign it," he ordered. The room was cooling again.

"Leave," she countered, her hands clenched into balls, knuckles stretched white.

"Potter," Snape snapped, "Upstairs, get dressed and retrieve your belongings." Harry remained rooted. "Now, Potter," he repeated.

Harry scooted around the other man, specifically noting the closer he moved, the colder the air felt. He shook the thought away and ran up the steps. In his room, Harry had to force himself to remain calm. All of his belongings were packed. Hedwig had been released, presumably with directions. He debated telling Snape to go to hell and leave him with the Dursleys, but he wasn't sure which person downstairs frightened him more.

Dumbledore had to have a way of getting him out of the apprenticeship. His thoughts shot rapid-fire around his brain. He couldn't spend five years at the beck and call of the psycho downstairs. Then again, if he went with Snape now, he'd likely end up in a place with a Floo. Staying with the Dursleys would isolate him from other wizards and expose him to three very angry relatives.

His decision was set. He checked beneath his loose floorboard; his special items were packed as well. Grabbing his trunk, he started pulling it towards the stairs.

Severus waited for him at the bottom; he was placing the apprentice scroll into his suit jacket pocket. He shrank the chest once Harry joined him.

"Where are the Dursley's?" Harry questioned.

"In the kitchen," he picked up the trunk and held it up for Harry to take. The teenager was too busy looking behind him to the kitchen door. "They are well," Severus informed, hand still presenting the trunk. Harry turned back and took his belongings, all his worldly possessions crammed into one two by three rectangle.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked once they were outside and walking down Privet Drive.

"Sir," Severus added. Harry looked at him confused. "Where are we going, sir?" Severus repeated. He slowed his speed as the baffled look and awkwardly long strides were making his future apprentice look ridiculous.

"I don't know, that's why I was asking you," Harry answered. Severus sped up, not caring if the snot looked stupid.

He cast the boy a baleful look, "I sincerely hope that sounded better in your head. Otherwise I shall start questioning your faculties even more than I already do."

"I thought we had some sort of truce," Harry asked in reference to Snape's claim that the past was the past.

Severus grunted, "I should think, technically, you broke it first." He stopped abruptly, waiting for Harry to turn to him. "Do you plan on accepting that we are stuck? Hogwarts' attorneys couldn't break the ministry's decision. Headmaster Dumbledore himself could find no loop hole. Lucius Malfoy and his best lawyers were left with nothing but wasted parchment. What makes you think that the world will create a way out for you just because you wish it so?"

Harry refused to meet his professor's gaze, finding the task of glaring holes into a neighbor's mailbox infinitely more fascinating, "They can't just force us together! It's not right."

"No, it isn't," Severus agreed. "But you've been steered through your entire childhood, what's one more turn around the bend?" He resumed his trek towards the area's designated apparation point, though at a more merciful pace.

"Why did you turn Uncle Vernon's gun into a fish?" Harry asked after a minute of silence. They had reached the street's corner.

Severus held out a hand for Harry to take, then saying as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I could hardly leave you there with him while he was still armed with a deadly weapon." Harry met Severus' eyes, looking for dishonesty. Why would Snape care if he wasn't safe with his uncle? "Besides," Severus continued, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth, "It amused me."

-~PULSE~-

Severus apparated to just outside Hogwarts' wards. Harry bent over to catch his breath; he hated side-along.

"Ready, Potter?" Severus asked sardonically. Harry nodded but didn't straighten right away.

"Is Ron here with Moody?" he finally asked. Severus debated lying but decided it wasn't worth the effort.

"He is," Severus answered slowly, "Along with several others of your little friends. I must meet with Professor Dumbledore. Keep yourself out of trouble whilst I do."

"I will," Harry responded somewhat sullenly.

"How will you occupy yourself?" Snape inquired.

Harry balked at the question and answered through gritted teeth, "I'll go find Ron. We'll hang out in the Gryffindor common rooms, alright?"

Severus appeared to actually consider whether he was okay with that. "You can resize your own trunk?" Harry nodded. "Good, stay in Gryffindor tonight. I have some business to attend to. I will collect you tomorrow morning."

"How will you occupy yourself?" Harry asked snottily. Severus fought the urge to smirk. It would be wrong to encourage cheekiness and disrespect in the boy. He withheld his answer.

"Well?" Harry prompted as they reached the entry doors and he still had no reply. Severus raised an eyebrow and younger man sighed exasperatedly, knowing what his professor was waiting for. He decided to humor the man since he was genuinely curious. "How will you occupy yourself, _sir_?"

"Careful, people will think you're learning," Severus told him, then remaining silent and waiting to see if Harry would twitch. Harry's face contorted, fighting the urge to grind his teeth. "I must pay a visit to my father," Severus explained.

"You're going to see your dad?" Harry asked skeptically, wanting clarification.

"Yes, now go to Gryffindor."

"But-"

"Now, Potter. The elves will feed you if you get hungry." Severus waited for Harry to ascend the stairs leading to his common rooms before he headed to Dumbledore's territory to inform the man that he was going to the hospital.

-~PULSE~-

The dark haired man flexed his fingers, enjoying the foreign sensation of his body answering his commands. The two men who'd come for him laid dead on the floor. A third cowered in the corner of his room.

"Who sent you?" he snarled. His hand shot out from beside his body, the third flew up against the wall, arms and legs stretched their furthest. A wand inched out of the third's pocket. "You're a wizard," the man concluded. He grinned maniacally, "You all were and couldn't handle little old me."

The man's eyes were black and crazed. His head was covered in greasy, short hair just as pitch as his eyes. A scar from his brief military career stretched from the corner of his right eye to the edge of his strong jaw, the silky flesh contrasted oddly with his naturally pale skin. He chuckled through his madness as the man in his grasp squirmed against his hold. The wizard's instinctual defenses were kicking in; he relished the feeling of the smaller man's magic seeping into his bones.

He felt a ripple in the air and blinked fiercely, dropping the man as his hands went up to run through his hair. He turned, growling at his new intruder.

"Who are you?" he demanded of the pompous wizard with long blond hair sauntering into his room; the orderlies in the hall remained oblivious.

"Lucius Malfoy. Are you enjoying yourself?" Malfoy asked.

"Immensely," he sneered before looking around his room, "where am I?"

"A hospital," Malfoy clarified, "You have been in a coma for, oh, the past twenty-some odd years."

"You lie," the man spat, "I feel stronger than ever."

"I can prove it, Tobias," Malfoy urged. "Come with me. It isn't safe here." Tobias Snape reared back when the blond wizard reached for him. "I woke you," Malfoy argued, "I'm only trying to help. I help you, you help me, alright? We need each other."

"I don't need anybody," Tobias sneered.

Malfoy held out a beckoning hand to the older man, "I doubt the hospital authorities will be pleased with this mess. Come now, I need you as much as the opposite." Tobias Snape looked around his depressing little room, the two men dead, and the one unconscious. It wasn't as if he had any better options than following the other man. He allowed the new wizard to lead him from the hospital.

TBC…

Please read and review.


	3. Chapter 3

"Harry!" Ron called around his sandwich as his best mate stepped through the portrait hole.

"Ron," he smiled tightly, mind still reeling from the arrangement he'd fallen into. His friends didn't seem as upset. "Are we all doing the apprentice thing?" he asked.

Ron grimaced and nodded, "You didn't miss much at that meeting. The teachers are being really quiet about it all. We didn't even get to see the list before old McGonagall made off with it."

"List?" he asked, nodding at Neville as he came down from the boys' dorm.

"Headmaster Dumbledore made it with Minister Heller," Neville answered softly, crossing over to join Ginny on one of the couches before the fire.

Harry frowned lightly, "So, they haven't told you the masters' names?"

"Well we know somebody's stuck with Snape," Ron laughed. He leaned and punched Neville in the arm, "Probably you, mate!" Neville blanched and looked back to the book he was reading.

"It would be a great honor to apprentice beneath Professor Snape," Hermione claimed.

Harry fought the urge to smirk. _Bloody Hell, one afternoon and he's already rubbing off on me._ Maybe he could get Hermione to trade with him for Snape.

Ron pulled at Harry's arm to gain the other boy's attention, "You should have seen Malfoy. He had his Dad up here whining about Snape not being on the list; it was great."

"But the letter said your Head of House couldn't be your master," Harry argued. Malfoy was a prat, but he was usually a smart prat. "So, Snape got put on the list because of Malfoy? That doesn't make any sense."

Ron shrugged, "The whole thing is stupid. A master is supposed to basically replace your parents, and it's something you're supposed to choose freely. Those bastards at the Ministry would take away your right to piss freely given half of a chance." He looked for Harry to agree with him, but the other teenager had joined the group by the fire.

Harry had a 'Master' who made things cold and a prat who wanted to be taught by said master. Lucius Malfoy was intelligent enough to realize Snape's name on the list meant nothing for Draco. The blonds would have been better leaving Snape off of it and unattached. Wouldn't they?

Previously, Hermione had had her nose predictably buried in some abnormally large, leather tome. When Harry sat, she closed it and leaned forward. Harry raised a brow at the title, "The Mastery of Mastery?"

She nodded, "Discusses several historical apprenticeships since the Founders' era. So have you thought about what area you'd want to study?"

"Why bother?" Harry replied, "It's not like they are giving us a choice."

Hermione adapted her best 'in the know' tone, "You're acting like Ron, now. When he hasn't been eating, he's been moping about the injustice of the world. And you do get some choice. Almost every professor has a mastery in more than one field."

"Like who?" Ginny countered, annoyed with Hermione's downplay of Ron's distress. At Hermione's silence, she sneered, "Don't tell me there's something you don't know."

"Lay off," Harry snapped before turning his back to Ginny, facing his bushy friend directly, "But really, Hermione, like who?"

"Well, since you all are stuck on his inclusion, take Professor Snape," she offered, "He has a mastery in several fields of potions and defense. McGonagall has masteries in at least transfiguration and arithmancy."

"Professor Sprout is the same way," Neville added. "I don't know what all of them are, but there's more than one."

Ginny shoved the book in Neville's lap, "They're just teachers, why did they bother with getting multiple masteries?"

"Just because someone becomes a professor doesn't mean they have to stop their education," Hermione frowned. "Haven't you ever heard of a research professor?"

Harry twisted his mouth at the argument itching to jump forth between his two friends. Attempting to lead their attention astray, he re-bounded a form of Hermione's earlier question, "Who do you hope will be your master?"

Hermione pursed her lips, "Well, there are several different factors."

The question momentarily settled the problems between Hermione and Ginny. Harry leaned back as his friends argued over who the best master would be. The majority agreed Snape would be the worst.

-~PULSE~-

It had been many years since Severus had spent such a long day in Muggle clothing. The shoes hurt his feet and the jacket felt plain weird. Pulling at his sleeves to settle them after his journey, he stepped from the alleyway, confident in his ability to blend.

It was a short walk to the hospital his grandfather had selected for his father. He used the main entrance to the building, comfortable in the fact that the usual personnel recognized him as merely another visitor. As long as you looked like you belonged somewhere, generally, no one would question your motives.

Tobias Snape resided in room 562 on the fifth floor. Severus, who avoided elevators whenever possible, welcomed the steep flights of stairs. At his destination, he checked his pulse, and pleased with the results, entered the exciting realm of long term coma patients.

The path was well memorized, before he knew it he was at the door marked T. Snape. He pushed the handle.

The door refused to budge.

Severus shook out his hands roughly, looking down either side of the hall. The ward's night staff was considerably smaller than the barely average-sized day counterpart. Only one nurse was stationed at the centralized administration desk, and she was preoccupied with her computer screen.

The chilly hospital was by no means an ideal location for practicing but needs must and what not. He closed his eyes and began to visualize the center of his power.

Severus centered himself, focusing on keeping his breaths evenly spaced and honing in on the feeling of blood moving through his veins with every pulse from his heart. The air beneath his palms shimmered, and he drew his right arm back, left arm outstretched before him. His heart rate increased, his energy bucked up against his mentally erected damns. The right shot forward and pushed the charged air with it. The ball left his hand and surged into the wood.

The door rattled within its frame as the energy ricocheted through the atoms producing a horrific, wince-worthy groan. Severus startled from his trance and searched for damage. He wiggled the handle.

It still would not move.

Severus pushed harder against the door; it remained secure. He leaned against it, using his feet for leverage. An orderly stopped across the hall from door T. Snape and regarded the wizard as if he were a morbidly fascinating species of insect.

"Can I help you with anything, sir?" the man-nurse asked.

Severus stopped his attempts on the door, adjusting his stance to look like he was leaning. He grinned tightly, "Door's stuck."

Man-nurse nodded slowly and motioned for Severus to step aside. He tried the handle and the latch gave way immediately. Severus scooted around him and turned to close the door.

"Thank y-," he started.

"Bloody f-," the orderly shouted and cut himself off. He reached around the door frame, slamming a fist into the emergency alarm. He grabbed Severus and yanked him from the room, pulling the door shut in the process. Severus turned just in time to see two men on the floor, blood seeping from every facial orifice into a large puddle. A third man closer to the door reached to them as the wood met frame, entreating for help. None of the men in the room was his father.

"Dr. Orange, you are needed on the fifth floor, Dr. Orange to the fifth floor," an intercom sounded through the hospital.

"What is your real business here? Why were you messing with that door?" the orderly demanded, his grip harshly unrelenting upon the wizard's arm.

Severus sneered and pulled his appendage back, warily eying the guards that surged into the hall. "T. Snape," he snapped, pointing at the sign next to the door, "is my father." His eyes shifted for an escape route.

"What's the situation?" a hospital guard asked as his partners sealed off room 562.

"This man was trying to force the door, going on about it being stuck when I questioned him. I pushed it, and right away, it comes open with those guys stiffed on the floor." The orderly took a quick breath and pointed accusatorily, "He did something, yeah!"

Severus pursed his lips, "I was here to visit my father."

"Just the same," the guard kicked back, "You'd better come with me until the police arrive." The guard took hold of Severus' arm; the wizard jerked back, debating the merits of a well aimed _Reducto_.

"That won't be necessary," a familiar voice boomed through the hollow corridor, accompanied by a stairwell slamming open. He walked straight into the semi-circle the guard, Severus, and the orderly formed. "Carry on, gentlemen," the man instructed, taking Severus' arm from the guard. "My fellow inspectors will take care of everything." He flashed a white row of teeth. "Have your men see mine; all of them, understand?" He nodded expectantly and began walking Severus to the lift.

"Things were getting rather heavy, eh, old man?" the man asked.

Severus bit back a snarl, "I was handling it, Shacklebolt."

"Handling it, he says," the auror scoffed. "And it's Kinglsey, _Severus._" The dark haired wizard sneered and stormed from the lift the moment the doors opened. Kingsley caught up with him and steered him towards an alley nearby.

"Our radars were flashing like crazy over at HQ. It spiked two hours ago then died down. We assumed it was a routine flare, but then, your signature must have set it off," Kinglsey volunteered. He loosely took hold of Severus' arm, "I'm assuming you had _nothing_ to do with those men's unfortunate circumstances." Severus cast a disdainful look. "Good, good. Well then, I just need you to come with me and answer a few questions." The auror spun on the spot; before Severus could give a scathing refusal, the Ministry Aurory took shape before his eyes.

"I told you never to do that!" he seethed. Several desk jockeys turned at the noise.

Kinglsey waved them off and guided the reluctant professor to his office." Well then, Professor, I just have a few questions for you." He cast his wand to charm his fire place. "Can get nippy in here at night," he explained, "That charm actually keeps the flames from extinguishing.

"Name?" he asked, smirking playfully.

Severus glared and responded dryly, "Severus Snape. I don't have time for this." He needed to return to the hospital and search for clues as to who had taken his father.

Kingsley flashed a grin and nodded his understanding, "Fine, fine. So why were you at the hospital?"

"Off the record, Shacklebolt," he ordered, unwavering gaze fixed upon the offending quill. Kingsley looked doubtfully between Severus and his parchment before finally relinquishing his quill and folding his hands neatly atop his desk. "The room in question belonged to my father. He's been in a coma since I was sixteen. I visit him regularly now that the war is over."

Kinglsey cocked his head, "That is rather human of you, Severus." The wizard in question growled in response. He clinched his fists discreetly, trying to ignore the tingling at his fingertips.

"I didn't come here to be mocked," he snapped.

"Why a Muggle hospital?" Kingsley interceded before Severus' ire could gain momentum.

The pale wizard's jaw visibly ticked as old scars were pealed back, nevertheless he answered, "My maternal grandfather masterminded the arrangement. He felt it would be better for a Muggle to be surrounded by other Muggles."

"And what were the details surrounding your father's fall to illness?" Kingsley asked.

"I fail to see how that is relevant to your investigation."

Kingsley's exasperation was apparent, "I think you do. I'm trying to do you a solid, mate. Least you could do is to throw me a rope. You were the only well bodied wizard found at a crime scene with two dead men and one more well on the way. Add to that, the whole thing took place in your father's hospital room." The dark auror circled his desk, leaning one arm on the back of the dark wizard's chair. "Give me a branch," he demanded, palm outstretched.

Severus gritted his teeth, itching to recoil from the man's proximity. "Am I under arrest," he asked, voice deadly soft.

Kingsley mirrored Severus' frustration, "Not yet."

"Then when you've got something to pin me with, floo me." He stood, forcing the auror to step back. "The Ministry is already taking over most of my life; I'm not giving you anymore." He raised his brows expectantly, waiting for a response. When none was forthcoming, he made to leave.

"Severus," Kingsley called, voice filled with warning, "the crime scene is closed until further notice. I don't want to hear you trying to snoop around. He paused and softened his voice, "You won't get anywhere by not cooperating with us."

"Instead of wasting your time questioning me over things you could discover in any hospital file," Severus shot back acidly, "Why don't you find out who's responsible for those three men? While you are at it, why don't you figure out who kidnapped my father?" Kingsley's door reverberated with the force used to shut it, only then did he notice his fire had burned out.

-~PULSE~-

Morning could not come quickly enough for Harry. Ron refused to taper his barrage of complaints on the injustices of the world until well into the early hours of the morning and only then because Harry refused to participate in the conversation. As surly as his potions master could be, Ron's attitude almost, almost mind you, made Harry look forward to his professor's quiet presence.

The professor seemed different the night before, by far more relaxed despite the conflict with Harry's aunt and uncle. It made Harry reflect on all his interactions with Snape. Honestly, if he were to cast aside all his previously formed prejudices, Snape hadn't been _that_ bad since Voldemort's death.

Maybe the apprenticeship would work.

Hermione and Neville were already in the common room when Harry finished dressing for the day.

"Ron and Ginny still asleep?" he asked.

"You know Ron, Harry," Neville offered in the timid way he always spoke. "He probably won't get up until noon."

"I doubt Professor McGonagall will allow that," Hermione argued. "We were just going to head down for breakfast. Want to join us?"

Harry scratched his stomach absently, "Sure."

The halls were eerily empty of both person and ghost. Harry half expected Snape to jump from every corner, berating him for disobedience before the apprenticeship was even official. But he had to eat, right? Even Snape had to understand that.

Didn't he?

-~PULSE~-

Dumbledore's door fell shut after Severus. The wizard looked around for the Headmaster to no avail. Dumbledore had instructed him to present himself first thing in the morning, so where was the grey-bearded professor?

Fawkes trilled, calling Severus' attention. Distractedly, he reached out to stroke the phoenix.

The bird violently recoiled from his touch. Severus and Fawkes peered at each other warily. Severus reached out once again; the bird hesitantly allowed it. The living flames within the bird's feathers cooled at the contact, turning a bluish purple as the pale fingertips skimmed over them. Once Severus lifted his hand, the feather's returned to their normal oranges and reds.

"Not so bad, after all," Severus whispered.

"What's not so bad, my boy?" Dumbledore asked as he entered his office through the connection to his quarters.

"Your chicken's odor," Severus lied smoothly and quickly changed the subject, "It seems my first thing in the morning comes long before yours, Albus. I've been here for nearly an hour."

Dumbledore snorted inelegantly, a gesture more suited to his potions master, "You've been here scarcely five minutes. Stop your whining and take a seat."

Severus sniffed disdainfully, gathered his robes, and took the proffered chair. "Keep in mind, Albus, I've yet to have any caffeine this morning."

Dumbledore shuddered in horror and grinned conspiratorially, "So I should make this quick lest your addiction monkey attack me.

"You visited your father last night."

"Attempted to."

"Then tell me about your trials," Dumbledore prompted.

Severus gave a longsuffering sigh but recounted his evening anyway, "I went to the hospital. My father's room door was locked, but the on duty nurse was able to release the latch on his first try." Severus pursed his lips, staring into the Headmaster's grate. "Three wizards were in the room, two dead and one injured. I believe they were part of some plot to kidnap my father." He leaned forward, "But why my father, a Muggle man who's been in a coma for most of my life?"

"Whom you visit a t least once a week, now." Dumbledore saw the self blame flares fire off in Severus' eyes and body posture and tried to head them off at the pass, "You are nevertheless not to blame, Severus. I do not doubt this would have happened with or without your visits."

"How on Earth could you know that, old man?" Severus snapped.

"Perhaps if you would let me finish, I could tell you," Dumbledore chided gently as he retrieved a folder from the side of his desk. Severus' eyes narrowed at the file sporting the Ministry seal. "Yes, this is an advance copy of the Auror Report. Our friend, Kingsley, was generous enough to send it my way."

"Your friend," Severus countered.

The headmaster went on as if uninterrupted, "The three wizards were indeed former Death Eaters." He flipped through a few pages, "There is also a scan record of the magical waves and signatures released that alerted the Ministry." He flipped the chart to show Severus. The younger wizard did not look; he already knew what graced the parchment. "They've identified everything except this line, here," he pointed at a multicolored squiggle near the end of the scan.

"Stop beating around the bush, Albus. Get to the point already," Severus demanded harshly.

"It's a Pulse, Severus," the question and allegation was in the tone more than his words.

Severus bristled, "Are you accusing me of something, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore rose from his desk, "Do not assume you will succeed in playing me, my boy. Answer me directly. Do you know how to Pulse?"

His lips curled, and Severus debated the intelligence found in further denying what Dumbledore was so obviously already in the know of. Still, the rebellious, prickly streak buried deep within him shrank at the elder man's behavior.

"Pulsing is illegal and a dead art, Headmaster," he sneered. The Headmaster glowered before his face instantly and completely transformed.

His features were soft when he looked upon Severus, "Do you really distrust me so much?"

Severus avoided looking in the man's eyes. The eyes would undoubtedly undo him. He found the be-starred trim of the Headmaster's robes particularly fascinating.

"Severus," the Headmaster called softly.

Severus' gaze rose to the Headmaster's face, drawn in against his will. He looked into the hurt blue eyes. He was caught.

_Damn._

He sighed and stared into the fire. "My father taught me," was his reply. "Will you send for the aurors?"

The Headmaster's back was now turned, hands clasped behind him. He was reflective when he spoke, "Many years ago, Pulsing was a Dark Wizard's weapon of choice. As such, the Ministry made the skill illegal." He turned to face Severus, "Rarely do I agree with the Ministry's decisions."

Severus' tense shoulders relaxed marginally, "Then you do not disapprove?"

Dumbledore nodded, "I do not, but I pray you take caution." The wizened wizard held Severus black gaze, "Pulsing is an effective weapon, is it not?"

"Very effective," Severus assured. "However its practice is not without inherent dangers," he admitted. "It was favored amongst dark witches and wizards because they were willing to take the risk."

Dumbledore stroked his beard pensively, "My only sources describe the outer effects of a Pulse. What specifically are the dangers of learning?"

Severus leaned forward. Now that the likelihood of being sent to prison had past, he relished the rare occurrence of knowing something his seemingly omniscient employer did not.

"Pulsing," he began in a flat voice, hiding his bubbling excitement, for Severus Snape did not bubble, "Draws upon your magic and life forces using your heart beats to propel itself. It is controlled by your pulse, which is how it gets the name. You must condition your body and heart to accept the added stress before you can even think of trying. Once your body is ready, you learn to increase the speed and force you heart creates and to bottle that energy until _you_ decide to release it. The risk arises because magical beings are often lazy. Impatience and shortcuts will get you nothing but a massive coronary attack which is why most wizards are not suited for the discipline."

Dumbledore absorbed the information quietly and after a moment, spoke, "I believe the Death Eaters have kidnapped your father in hopes of learning his trade."

"He's a comatose machinist, not very useful for reaping havoc on the public."

The Headmaster nodded to himself, "We must be prepared to fight against Pulse wielding Death Eaters."

"Do you want me to teach you?" Severus questioned, lips pursed and wondering whether or not Dumbledore could physically handle the stress.

The old man blinked, coming back to the present. He smiled warmly, "No, my dear boy, I doubt I could condition my body to accept what you described."

"It is easier to learn while youth still races through your veins," Severus concurred.

The Headmaster's smile grew, he stood and started ushering Severus to the door, "Good, good. I am so pleased you agree."

"Agree to what?" Severus demanded incredulously as he was unceremoniously tossed from the Headmaster's office.

The old man was bursting at the seams with the level of exuberance he reserved for those special moments of making Severus' life a living hell. "To teaching your apprentice to Pulse, of course," he explained merrily. The door closed between them, nearly tapping Severus' nose in the process. "Do be careful with the boy," the happy voice called through the wood.

Severus growled, his jaw ticking as he stared at the door for several long moments, desperately searching for a vein of logic in the Headmaster's behavior.

"He's gone completely barmy," he mumbled to himself. He moved to the staircase just as it started spinning upward. Stepping aside, he awaited the Headmaster's next guest.

A tightlipped McGonagall greeted him sharply as she sidestepped him. Severus paused to watch her retreating back speculatively.

"Severus," she called the moment his foot fell on the floor beneath the steps, "I'll need you in the dining room in ten minutes."

-~PULSE~-

The Great Hall was rarely used during the summer. With only the shrunken populace in attendance at meal times, there was no reason to facilitate the grand room as Harry and his friends discovered upon arriving to find the usual meal location sealed tightly.

Luckily, Professor Flitwick was passing by at precisely the same moment and led them to a smaller dining area, usually only open to the staff during the school year. The three early risers ate their breakfast and then remained at the table. Hermione's nose was in her newfound book on masteries whilst Neville and Harry played a Muggle card game. Over the next half hour, the rest of the present staff wandered in.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I am indeed aware of the time," McGonagall snapped, patience stretched like rice paper as she led the remaining apprentices into the room. Their organization was similar to that of a group of ducklings, Malfoy bringing up the sullen rear.

"Are we having a meeting?" Hermione asked her Head of House.

"Yes, Miss Granger, the Headmaster will be here shortly."

Harry eyed Ron as he entered. The red head was none too pleased with him for his lack of attention the night before and, like always, was reacting with irrational anger. He practically sent Trelawney into hysterics from her seat opposite him. He noted only Professor Flitwick was brave enough to sit (or more aptly, to remain) next to the divination professor, the other professors avoided the second chair to her side like the plague.

Professor Snape stormed the room, all robes and billowing glory. McGonagall visibly disapproved of his antics. With a barely concealed grimace, he eyed the remaining chairs and without a second moment's hesitation, selected the one near Harry.

Severus was silent while the others dined, having shown up with the fear of Minerva in mind. There were certain matters you did not push her on. Blatantly ignoring her summons when she was on needles anyway was one such matter, especially when you couldn't claim you'd missed her notification.

The Headmaster took his sweet time making an appearance. Even the professors, having already finished their meals, and had begun to fidget when the sparkly wizard finally graced them with his presence.

He smiled warmly as he took his seat between McGonagall and Severus. "I thank you all for your cooperation this morning and appearing on such short notice," he began. "As you all are aware, this arrangement is Ministry designed and driven, so what is necessary for us, now, is to band together." He eyed Ron and Draco, "There is no room for conflict amongst ourselves." His enthusiasm returned and he pulled the list from his robes, "Despite certain misgivings, I am sure our apprentices are all wondering who they will be paired with." He spared a noticeable wink for Harry and read off the list.

Harry felt Ron's gaze fixed on the back of his head. Surely, Ron could not be that mad over Harry's neglect to tell him about already knowing, about Snape.

The Headmaster rambled on about ceremony and procedure. Harry, though interested, could not focus on the man's words. He felt as if he was dancing on the edge of a razor. Part of Ron's ramblings focused on an apprenticeship's inability to be exited easily. Only extreme circumstances allowed an escape.

The Headmaster removed another scroll. Only this time, upon unraveling it multiplied into seven different documents. The parchments fluttered under his magic and distributed to each of the different masters.

Harry's gaze blurred over the document.

Everything was supposed to get better after Voldemort croaked.

The meeting adjourned with Harry not so blissfully ignorant. Neville jarred his chair when he rose to catch up with Madame Sprout. Harry blinked after the rapidly growing teenager and realized he was left alone in the staff room.

Then he looked to his left.

The dark professor's gaze was the definition of steadfast. His coal black eyes bore into Harry's own.

"For your safety, I hope you do not intend to make such a display of disrespect a habit," he informed the younger wizard. His hands were steepled in front his chest, elbows resting calmly on the arms of the chair. Professor Snape appeared completely relaxed, and, yet, Harry couldn't remember a time he was more afraid of the man.

"What disrespect?" he asked, chin jutted out as he refused to be bullied throughout their entire apprenticeship.

"Are you finished?" Severus asked not unkindly, nodding to the breakfast foods on the middle of the table.

"Yes. What disrespect?" he pressed.

Snape stood from his chair silently and gestured for Harry to follow him.

"Snape!" he called as he stood from his seat, refusing to allow the other man to ignore him.

The professor whirled on him, his height allowing him to tower over the teenager.

"As of yet, it is 'Professor' or 'Sir," the older man ordered. He held his hands up to encompass the hall. "Do you have any idea what we are doing, Potter?" he spat. "We are going to make this farce official. The disrespect I speak of is ignoring the headmaster's speech, finding whatever little insignificant tidbits firing off in your mostly vacant headspace more interesting than his instructions. That is the disrespect I will not allow you to continue. You are to be _my_ apprentice which means your behavior reflects upon my person. I'll be damned twice over before I allow you to make a mockery of me.

"Now, if you do not mind, we are going to my office to discuss our contract, which, not at all coincidentally is what the Headmaster just finished instructing us on."

Harry bit his tongue and looked down as he imagined all of the horrible things he could do to the great bat without getting caught. It was infuriating, just when he thought he could start getting along with the bastard, the man had to go and be an even bigger jerk.

He followed the older man in silence, still fuming from the uncalled for rebuke.

Severus lowered the wards on his office door and entered, immediately taking a seat behind his desk and unfurling the scroll.

Harry lingered in the doorway and shoved his hands in his pockets. Severus looked up from the paper. "What are you doing?" he snapped. "Get in here and close the door behind you."

Harry frowned and shuffled into the room. He struggled for words and finally waved his hand in a circular motion. "Why are you so," he paused uneasily, "pissed today?"

Severus' brows skyrocketed; he rose smoothly and circled his desk. He stopped directly before Harry, leaning toward him. "Pissed?" he asked.

Harry leaned backward, taking an involuntary step toward the door. "Yeah, pissed," he reiterated, holding his hands up in a supplicating gesture. "Yesterday you were, I don't know, like human." He shrugged at the older man.

Severus clenched his jaw and moved his gaze to a point just over Harry's head. Sighing, he nodded and returned to his seat.

He nodded to the chair before his desk, "Take a seat, Potter." He pursed his lips, black eyes following Harry's movements. After a long, decisive moment, the corners of his mouth quirked, "Take a lesson, Potter, never start your day by visiting Headmaster Dumbledore."

Harry nodded warily. "What does the contract say?"

"That you, Harry James Potter, will be my, Severus Tobias Snape's, apprentice," Severus' black eyes raked over the words one last time and then handed the document to Harry. "It is completely standard and a mere formality for the Ministry's records," he assured. Harry was inclined to believe him.

"Do we just sign, then? That will make me your apprentice?" Harry asked.

Severus cocked his head, "Well, we still have the ceremony where we imbibe raw chicken livers before giving ourselves matching butterfly tattoos on our bums; butterflies are the official symbol of the master/apprenticeship relationship. Oh, and we do this after we drink a cup of each other's mixed blood."

Harry bit down the bile rising in his throat, "A simple 'no' would have sufficed." He looked down to the paper and back to the man behind the desk. "I want my butterfly in red and gold. Do you have a quill?"

Severus smirked humorously and handed a quill to Harry, "I'll see what I can do, but the Ministry chooses the color at random." He looked down his nose to the paper, "Ah, you will have to sign in blood."

Harry flinched, his hand automatically covering the scar on its partner. "Is this a blood quill?"

"Those are illegal, dark items," Severus sneered. He reached into his robe and withdrew a pocket knife. He then walked to one of his many office cupboards and retrieved two small, white dishes. Harry twitched and watched with abject fascination as the older man easily sliced through the thin skin near the meaty part of his palm, just beneath his thumb. Severus held his hand over the dish, letting the opening pour into it. Once the bottom was well covered, he pressed a white handkerchief to the cut and rummaged through his desk for a bandage.

"Can't you just heal it?" Harry asked.

Severus glanced up, "For our purposes, the cut must be allowed to heal naturally." He picked up the knife, "I will make the incision for you, if you prefer." Harry grimaced and held his scarred hand out to his professor.

Severus firmly gripped the young appendage, frowning as he inspected the scar tissue which happened to be on a parallel spot to Severus' own cut.

"It seems you've had some experience with blood quills?" he queried disinterestedly. Harry's chin jutted out, but he remained silent.

"Very well," he placed the knife to Harry's skin, the length of the blade running along his scar, and applied further pressure. Harry chewed on his tongue for distraction as his blood dripped and covered the bottom of the dish. The same startlingly white cloth was pressed to his cut. His professor retrieved a salve and saw to Harry's hand.

"I thought you said it has to heal on its own," Harry frowned.

"This is a disinfectant," Snape clarified, slipping into his lecture voice, "It will prevent infection as well as numb any discomfort you're likely to feel. The bandages were already soaked with this Echinacea angustifolia mixture."

Severus wiped his hands on the cloth. "Now, sign," he ordered, nudging the paper to Harry.

Harry flexed his hand, picked up the quill, and placed it to parchment. His professor did the same after him. The scroll glowed a startling, deep silver before vanishing. A small, flat, metal square was left in its place.

Severus Snape was his new Master.

**Thanks for reading. I beseech you to leave lovely reviews. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

_Silent muttering._

When the phrase first bounded through Harry's mind to the forefront of his consciousness, he thought he must be going as barmy as the Headmaster.

That thought made him wonder if he'd receive all of the Headmaster's power as well which in turn made him smirk mischievously until he realized both Professor McGonagall and Malfoy, who were seated across from him and his own master, were watching him suspiciously.

He sobered after that.

Regardless of his opinion on the phrase, he felt it was an apt description of the mandatory dinner in the same room where they took breakfast.

Most occupants were visibly tense and spoke in whispered tones to the people directly next to them. Even Hermione's enthusiasm at the beginning of the meal couldn't crack the chilly air.

Harry's awareness of the tension did not make him immune to it, however.

Sitting straight-backed in the comfortable chair, he was intensely aware of his new Master's gaze shifting to his clothing with more wonder than disapproval.

Not that there was anything specific to disapprove of, but he was the only student wearing the uniform.

His master was only half of the problem. Once Malfoy had decided speculatively regarding Harry was a waste of his attention, he shifted his gaze to Severus. Harry decided the question in Malfoy's eyes mostly dwelt on why was his head of house not more upset by the arrangement. The boy was tapping his fingers along with his excellent pout and looked ready to launch an attack, verbal or physical, upon Severus at any moment.

Harry, for once not particularly cold in the other man's presence, tried to ignore the problems of others and concentrate on his meal.

It worked until McGonagall joined the 'Watch-Fest.' She watched Malfoy. Malfoy watched Severus. Severus watched Harry. And Harry was driven to pointing his head mostly towards the other end of the table.

And that is when he noticed Ron was not watching anything save the contents of his plate. The other teenager looked lonely as his classmates were all preoccupied with their instructors. Harry knew from Neville and Hermione that he'd met with his own master earlier in the day due to an arrangement by Dumbledore.

He wondered what further news could have Ron looking so forlorn. It was easy for Harry to let his thoughts drift off in that direction until the Headmaster's arrival pulled him crashing down to reality.

Sometime since Harry zoned out and the Headmaster's seating, the room had dropped several degrees and yet, he noticed, no one else seemed to take interest in that fact. He pulled his robe more closely together and listened to the Headmaster's outlining of the format to be followed for the year.

Unlike what his own master had outlined and much to Harry's relief, the Hogwarts altered apprenticeship would take no more than three years. The individual pairs were at that time allowed to decide whether or not they wanted to extend the program.

He risked a glance to note his master had maintained a passive countenance. He could not tell the other man's thoughts on the matter.

Secondly, the apprentices were no longer students of Hogwart's; they were instead to be considered junior staff with all the responsibilities and privileges. Harry smiled at this until the Headmaster continued to note that, as junior staff, they were no longer allowed to reside in the student dormitories. They were instead expected to reside in a room adjacent to their master's. They were expected to be ready for the move by tomorrow evening.

Malfoy also possessed a pinched expression.

After that and a few other procedural notes, Dumbledore quieted down to his meal. Harry pushed his food around his plate until they were permitted to leave.

As they stood, a glance from his master told him he was expected to stay. He reclaimed his chair and waited.

"Is there something you required?" Severus asked. Harry's head shot up in confusion until he noticed Malfoy was standing from across the table, pinning a mini-Slytherin glare upon his former head of house. Harry also noted McGonagall paused at the door upon noticing Malfoy's delay.

"How can you agree to let _that_ be your apprentice?" Malfoy demanded, jerking a finger in Harry's direction.

Harry moved to answer the challenge, but Severus' cold hand stopped his movement. His master rose from his chair calmly.

"I assume you are referring to Mr. Potter. Need I inform you that you will be expected to treat all of your fellow junior and senior staff members with respect?" Severus asked quietly.

Malfoy sneered, "You really are no better than a filthy mudblood, aren't you?"

Harry did stand at this. He didn't like Snape, but he was his master. He'd be damned if he let some punk like Malfoy get away with insulting him. Besides, it was a perfect excuse to hex the blond. For his part, Severus' eyes narrowed, but he remained calm.

"Minerva," he called, "perhaps you could take your apprentice aside and explain to him the finer points of holding ones tongue?"

McGonagall had swiftly crossed the room and, to Harry, seemed scarier than she had his first night at Hogwarts. Malfoy barely concealed a flinch when she sidled up next to him.

"What?" Malfoy laughed in his best imitation of his father, "You expect me to kowtow to the whims of some Gryffindor?"

Harry pursed his lips, now the brat was insulting his house and his former head, he reached for his wand. A glance from his master stayed his attack.

Dumbledore, who'd left before the confrontation had arisen, returned to the dining room, all smiles and rainbows.

"Ah," he began cheerfully, drawing the attention of the two pairs, "I was informed of some sort of conflict in the dining room. Is there a problem here?"

Severus withdrew from the table, gently nudging Harry's arm in the direction of the door. "This is a matter perhaps dealt with Minerva and her apprentice directly." He nodded to the headmaster and other professor and left the room, Harry in his wake.

"So you are just going to let him off the hook like that?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

Severus glanced through the side of his eyes as if surprised Harry was still following him. "Draco is Professor McGonagall's responsibility. I was able to postpone his joining the Dark Lord long enough for the madman to croak first, and now, I am not even his head of house. I wash my hands of him."

"I thought he was your favorite student," Harry argued. "Isn't his father your best friend?"

Severus laughed derisively, "Think on this, Lucius hates me more than you ever had. Whether or not I was ever named Draco's godfather means little."

Harry, sour that he'd been laughed at, remained quiet until they'd reached Snape's office. When the man entered without a word and continued to ignore him, he spoke. "What did you want after dinner?"

Severus looked up and quickly back down to the drawer he was searching through.

"Why are you wearing your uniform?" he asked.

Harry, taken with the random question, answered honestly. "They're all I have." He then realized how pathetic that sounded and added onto the statement. "I outgrew my regular clothes from last year. Hermione transfigured these to fit me."

Severus, withdrawing a black leather portfolio that looked similar to one Harry'd seen his uncle with, sized the boy up. "You don't seem much taller."

"I grew two inches!" Harry shot back, annoyed that he was still a good half foot (if he was being generous with his height and stingy with Snape's) shorter than the other man.

Infuriatingly, Severus merely hummed noncommittally in response.

He started jotting down something in his folder, on muggle paper no less.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked curiously.

"Sir," Severus commented. When Harry looked at him questioningly, he elaborated. "Address me as sir or master when asking me a question, particularly when it is clear I am preoccupied with something else. It will make me look more favorably upon answering you." He looked back down to his paper.

Harry rolled his eyes but obliged, "What are you doing, sir?"

"Writing down your measurements," Severus responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Whatever for?" Harry asked indignantly.

Severus' intake of breath was ominously audible in the quiet stone room. "I realize, Potter, we are not having the best start in our working relationship, but, just so as I'm prepared, do you always ask so many similar questions?" He didn't wait for an answer, "We were speaking about your clothing. I am writing down your measurements. Let us address this as a lesson in deductive reasoning; can you figure why I would record your figures?"

Harry felt his lips try to bend into a grimace, "Yeah, I think I got it."

Severus smirked, "Excellent, then you will have no problem meeting me at the doors tomorrow morning. Nine a.m., do not be late."

-~PULSE~-

Harry returned to his room in a haze of befuddlement. Snape had been oddly out of character ever since their return to Hogwarts. He was still snarky and overbearingly arrogant, but there was a distinctive lack of malice to his various barbs and pricks.

Unfortunately, Harry soon found that missing malice in the company of his first friend and long time roommate. His redheaded friend-fellow practically emanated tension with every deposit of clothing into his large, worn trunk. Harry tried to rouse a conversation from his friend with small talk to no avail.

"Are you really going to leave without speaking to me?" he asked.

The red head glared and continued stuffing the clothes he'd unpacked the night before into his trunk.

"This is probably our last night as roommates," Harry urged. He couldn't conceive of an occasion where they'd be forced together again.

"Good," Ron snapped.

Harry grasped for straws, "Malfoy waited till after dinner to remind us why he's such a great prat."

Ron sneered, "I bet your _Master _sorted him out well enough."

"What is your problem?" Harry demanded.

"You knew about Snape!" Ron threw a shoe into his trunk. "Don't even try denying it; Dumbledore all but told me before we met with Moody."

Harry scrunched his lips together, "What does it even matter if I knew? It's not like I had a choice!"

Ron threw down his tie, it didn't make as spectacular of a sound as the shoe, "That's not the point. It's always the same. There always is special treatment for Harry Bloody Potter!"

"You're impossible," Harry accused disbelievingly.

Ron climbed into bed and grabbed the curtains. "And you're a bigheaded prat!" he yanked them shut.

Harry rolled his eyes and glanced over to Neville's bed; the other boy had already shut his curtains some time before. He collapsed onto his own bed and forced his eyes shut, hoping tomorrow would indeed be a better day.

-~PULSE~-

Tobias Snape idly levitated one of Malfoy's crystal trinkets several inches above his fingertips. "For all your talk of big plans, Malfoy, you're quite the boring chap." The crystal landed with a thunk into his palm. Malfoy winced.

"I told you, we need to wait for the aurors to lose interest in you. A couple days more will be all it takes."

"I want to see my boy," Tobias snarled.

Lucius regarded the man sadly, "And what if he has no wish to see you?"

"What?" Tobias snapped, fingers tightening around the crystal.

Lucius sighed, "I didn't want to bring it up while you were still recovering, but haven't you wondered why Severus wasn't the one to wake you?

"I went to school with Severus. When you fell ill, he forgot about you." Lucius rose from his armchair and settled on the sofa, closer to Tobias. "I saw you as a man reaching out to better himself. You gave your body magic! I made it my lifetime quest to bring you back.

"All Severus did was abandon you."

Tobias shook his head, "Not my boy. He wouldn't forget me."

"He did," Lucius urged gently. "Like most wizards, he has no use for ignorant muggles, which is all you are to him." He placed a cool hand on the non-wizard's. "I know better and so does my lord."

"This Voldemort fellow?" Tobias asked. "What does he care for muggles like me?"

Lucius smiled, "You are no longer a muggle, and the Dark Lord cares only for purifying the wizarding world. You can help him."

Tobias sneered and lowered the crystal to the table, "Sounds too much like Hitler to me."

Lucius chuckled, daintily covering his mouth, "Oh, he is nothing like that, and I can prove it to you. All you need do is teach me to pulse and assist me with my plan."

"And bring back your Lord," Tobias continued. "I still want to see my boy."

Lucius restrained himself from killing the man right then. What sort of mutated muggle dared demand things of a Malfoy? Instead, he plastered on his most sincere, closed mouthed smile, "I understand. I will find out when he travels from Hogwarts."

"When?" Tobias demanded harshly.

"Tomorrow," Lucius snapped and bit his tongue. He smiled once more and continued in a calmer tone, "Tomorrow."

-~PULSE~-

Ron was gone by the time he woke; Neville was absent as well. Harry felt a distinctive emptiness, realizing everything was changing faster than he could manage to comprehend. Today, all of his friends and he were finished as Hogwarts students. In many eyes, that signified you as an adult, yet Harry scarcely doubted he'd ever felt smaller and more insecure. He'd always thought such insecurities would be brought about by the actual fall of Voldemort, not months later by a ripple effect of their past actions.

He rose from bed and pulled on a uniform shirt and slacks. He entered the bathroom and splashed his face with water, chastising himself for being sappy. Yesterday wasn't the last day of life as he knew it. Today was the first day of something new and, he grimaced, exciting.

Severus was waiting for him, casually leaned up against the wall near the doors dressed in the same sort of muggle business attire he'd visited the Dursleys in. The man's hair was neatly combed, and if it weren't for the length, the professor would have no problem passing for a muggle professional.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked as he approached his instructor.

Severus ignored him. "Have you eaten breakfast?" he asked.

Harry lied, nodding the affirmative. He wasn't hungry enough to eat, and his stomach backed his statement wholeheartedly with a queasy flip flop sensation.

Severus wasted little thought as to whether Harry, who'd emerged from the direction of his tower and not the breakfast room, was telling the truth or not. As soon as the boy answered his question, he whirled on his heel exited Hogwarts. Harry assumed he was meant to follow.

Severus set a quick pace where Harry's shorter legs were almost forced into a jog. He led them from Hogwarts to Hogsmead, every so often surreptitiously monitoring Harry's vitals. Dumbledore wanted him to train the boy, he had to start somewhere.

Once in Hogsmead, he headed straight to the small train station.

"Are we taking a train, sir?" Harry asked puzzled. Severus glanced his way, sending a refusal to answer such a question with his gaze as he purchased his tickets.

Complacently, Harry boarded the train after Snape. He just as much preferred a silent, if not criticizing, Snape to a chatty bastard one. Harry doubted he had the energy for one of his usual trades with Snape.

"Where are we headed?" he asked tiredly after the train started moving.

Severus looked from the window, "You need new clothes. As your master, it is my responsibility to provide them for you." He turned back to the window.

"If we stop by Gringott's, I can pay for my own clothes," Harry argued.

"We will visit the goblins later in the day, regardless. However, you will not pay for these clothes," Severus' mouth formed a strangely intimidating smile. "And before you raise your ire, what you will endure before their purchase will more than make up for any monetary exchange." Harry crinkled his brow, waiting for Snape to continue. "You must convince my grandfather of your worth."

Harry frowned but didn't respond. He turned back to his window desolately. It was going to be a long day.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Hope you all can forgive my absence. The real world took me away from any and all hobbies. Now that the semester has started again, I hopefully will be updating more often, but between 18.5 credit hours and my job I cannot in good conscience make any promises. So please, be patient with me. I will not abandon this story, and I hope I'm able to keep all of your interests for the rest of it.

By ten o clock, Harry was beyond bored. It seemed that he should have been able to occupy himself longer, but going on forty minutes with little else to look at aside from the familiar, monotonous countryside and his surly professor, Harry felt his patience rapidly spinning into nothingness.

He pulled his wand from his pocket and tried to spin it like he'd seen drummers and other students do on occasion. He rushed to catch it as it fell into his lap.

He tried again. It fell. He tried once more. It fell once more; each time it made a muffled clack on either his lap or the carpeted floor for the few times he failed to catch it in time.

_Clack._

_Clack._

_Cl- _"You will cease that infernal behavior!" Snape ordered in harsh tones.

Harry's head snapped up from his wand. "What the he—ck," he altered his word midstride, "does it mean to prove myself?

"And what if I fail to 'convince your grandfather of my worth.' What is he going to do, march up to the Ministry and demand his precious grandson be relieved of his burden?" Harry paused, considering the merits of that possibility. "Do you think that would work?"

Severus fought the twitch in his lips, "Have you been dwelling on this?" He leaned back and switched his crossed leg, "My grandfather is a pureblooded prig with delusions of god-hood. He likes to believe everything that goes on in our family is decided upon by him." He held his hands in a disarming gesture, "When Dumbledore appointed you to me without what Grandfather Prince judges to be due consideration, he got his feathers ruffled. That is why we are off to see him."

"Why do you care if he's mad at Dumbledore?" Harry asked, finding it hard to mesh the man before him with a man who scurries to his grandfather's side at the first sign of conflict.

Severus smirked darkly and explained, "I prefer to keep both he and my mother happy. The less they have to complain about, the less they meddle." Something about the statement didn't ring true with Harry. Severus continued less conspicuously, "He does fund the majority of my research, as well. Besides, it is never a good idea to alienate those with power if you can avoid it."

Harry snorted, "You've never seemed very interested in politics. Minister Fudge practically hated you and Minister Heller seems to as well."

Severus smiled genuinely this time, "Those instances were unavoidable."

"What does he do? Is he retired?" Harry asked.

Severus sighed long-sufferingly, "He is the founder, lead judge, and head instructor for a private firm of bodyguards for elitists."

Harry cocked his head, "I didn't realize wizards had bodyguards. I've never seen one." He chuckled shortly, "You would think Malfoy would have one following him around twenty four seven."

"When they are on duty, you won't see them, as is the case with those working for _The Princely Guard," _Severus offered. "Lucius Malfoy's father, Abraxas Malfoy, uses their services, though he hardly ventures into the public eye anymore."

Harry settled to look out of his window. Snape seemed calmer than Harry believed the situation warranted. Though, Harry wouldn't put it past the older man to try to get on his good side before they approached his grandfather. Then again, when had Snape ever cared about his good side? He couldn't get the memory of his first introduction to his uncle's sister, Marge, when he was five. The woman hated him on sight. Vernon Dursley seemed to be even less favoring towards Harry after that first visit.

He twiddled his thumbs idly. Fighting with Snape during his previous years at Hogwarts had only been tiring. He found himself wanting to remain on neutral ground with the dour man and make the most of the situation they'd been forced in. In that case, it was pertinent he gain Snape's grandfather's approval.

"Do you think he'll like me?" Harry blurted as the train was coming to a halt. Severus stood, pinching his nose in pain.

"I know I am the one always disciplining you for your lack of concern, but you really are over-worrying yourself. What are you, afraid you'll lose a fan?"

Harry followed the man into the train's hall, "No, I mean, I don't care about fans!" He growled low in his throat, "I'm just trying to do what you want me to."

Severus rolled his eyes and turned, "What is it you believe I want you to do?"

Severus turned and exited the train; Harry noted they were the only two exiting at this stop.

"I don't know. That's the problem," Harry grunted.

Severus shot him a questioning look, "Why the sudden interest? You're up to something, aren't you?" He whirled on his apprentice, "If you try any stunts, when we get back to Hogwarts you will be one very sorry Potter." Harry pinched his lips, refusing to answer. Instead, he waited expectantly for an answer to his original question. "Just be yourself," Severus forced out, looking as if the words were particularly sour. "He'd probably like you more if you act the arrogant brat I always accuse you of being."

From the train station, a carriage with covered windows was awaiting them. The inside was dark and cool, and Harry speculated as to the details of Snape's grandfather's home. If it was dark and cool like the carriage, perhaps that was why Snape was so fond of the dungeons.

Something clicked in his head as they traversed the bumpy road, "You said the arrogant brat you accuse me of being. You don't really think I'm arrogant at all!" He grinned in triumph.

"I wouldn't go as far as definite exclusions. But, if I thought you as arrogant as I seem to," Snape responded, "Calling you as such would not be nearly as satisfying."

Harry shook his head in exasperation. His exchanges with Snape were nowhere near as stressing now that House Points seemed to have exited the equation. When the carriage slowed, he pulled back the curtain nearest his seat and gasped at the view outside.

Prince Manor was like nothing in Harry's brief imaginings. During the short carriage ride, his mind had supplemented everything from amphibian filled motes and grimy guard towers complete with ominous clouds looming overhead like black hawks.

Instead, rather, he was granted the sight of beautiful and quasi modern architecture (the sort of building commissioned when 'antique' was in). A cobble stone path led their transport within the gates and through the front gardens along the side of the large half circled front. From their close passing, Harry could see the walls were purely white and smooth like stucco but appearing (and being, Harry figured) of much stronger material.

Their escort disbanded from his topside seat and opened the door for Harry and Severus to exit. Harry followed in awe, offering a small thank you when their driver closed the carriage door after him.

Harry and Snape were forced to walk the remainder of the journey to Severus' grandfather's house. Severus led, and Harry followed in moderate silence.

They reached the main doors all too quickly for Harry's taste, and he could feel his stomach turning with every step. Memories of every relative the Dursley's had ever reluctantly introduced him to flashed before his mind.

His master's hand rose to the door, knocking briskly.

A tall, older man opened the door, smiling tightly when he saw Severus before unsuccessfully biting back a grimace when he looked to Harry.

"Severus," the tall man began, "it is good to see you. Your mother has been upset that you do not call more often." He stepped back to give the pair room to enter, "and this must be the apprentice you have been charged with," the tall man commented, "your grandfather will be most pleased you agreed to bring him." Another grimace bubbled to the forefront if his face, "he is satisfied you have finally chosen some sort of relation, though he is less so for the selection."

"Have the terms of your employment changed so that you merely stand around all day insulting various guests?" Severus asked acidly, moving to stand slightly between Harry and the butler, "fetch my grandfather so he can pretend to approve, and we can be on our way." The butler's face contorted whilst he complied.

Harry could see the anger turning in the tall man's gait. "Is he always like that?"

Severus smirked, "Age has mellowed him."

Harry nodded, "I think I'm grateful for that." He noticed Severus move to tale a look at the different paintings adorning the many walls in the octagonal room. "Is your grandfather like that, too?"

"As you will be meeting him soon enough, I will not deprive you the pleasure of forming your own opinion." The tall wizard moved slowly to the next wall panel.

"Thanks for that," Harry replied sarcastically.

One of the wall panels burst open, swinging forcefully from its previously unseen hinges. A man Harry coukd only assume to be the Prince patriarch led a mockingly short procession (consisting of the patriarch himself and his oddly vertically endowed servant) into the greeting hall.

The man's eyes passed over Harry but he otherwise kept the youngest wizard unacknowledged. Severus turned his back to the older man, "Grandfather, I would like to introduce you to my apprentice, Harry Potter. Apprentice, this is Marcus Aurelius Prince."

Harry nodded to Marcus Prince. "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir," he greeted formally.

Marcus sniffed and sidestepped his grandson. "Mister Potter, the wizarding world's dear celebrity," his sneer was eerily reminiscent of Snape's own. He continued shortly, "And you wish to be Severus' apprentice."

"He _is _my apprentice," Severus corrected. "You mentioned the desire to assess his practical skills. What did you have in mind?" He noticed his grandfather's butler smirking darkly near the shallow corner door. Severus advanced upon Marcus lightly. "Do keep in mind I will not tolerate any damage even remotely lasting upon my apprentice's person," he mumbled darkly.

Marcus' eyes narrowed and Harry could see the battle between the two dark wizards. As if reaching a decision, Marcus leaned away from Severus and nodded his assent, "That was never my intention, boy." The elder man stepped backward, gracefully covering his momentary lapse in spatial dominance. Regardless, the slip had been noted by all its occupants and the air in the room shifted. Harry was particularly grateful; as if by magic, his butterflies settled on a perch. Though he was hardly happy to be attached to Snape of all people, he was exceedingly pleased Marcus Prince's final decision would have no bearing on his personal or professional relationship with the man's grandson.

Prince circled Harry predatorily, placing the youth between himself and Severus.

"You tie my hands, Severus," Marcus chided cryptically. He pulled up his waltz and folded his hands before him. "My test will be in _the room,_ of course, and the possibility for physical damage will be made all but non-existent_._" He smiled closed mouth, his cheeks pulling in an unattractive fashion.

Harry's eyes snapped between Prince and Snape. The Butler looked gleeful and Prince looked entirely too smug; neither fact boded well for Harry. Snape's calm visage held no clues as to whether he should be worried or not.

"Very well," Severus accepted. He was acutely aware of his apprentice's unease and its effect on his grandfather's mood and was mentally cheering for it. For all his grandfather's dramatic flair and posturing, he would soon learn his favorite tactic in shocking new recruits, or in this case, his apprentice, would not be quite so effective this time.

Marcus nodded to the Butler, "Jeeves, take Mr. Potter to the east corridor, we will join you shortly." Harry stepped from the mental showroom platform the Prince patriarch had placed him upon. Severus nodded to him in assurance.

Once the door had closed behind the pair, Severus whirled on his grandfather.

"_The room_?" he sneered. "I could practically hear the italics." He turned before his grandfather could answer and pulled one of the panel doors from its slot. He'd play his grandfather's game and watch the old man be knocked onto his arse.

Harry took rapid deep breaths in quick succession. He'd hoped the way Marcus Prince said "the room" had been for dramatic effect and yet, so far, nothing had disproved his worries. It was painfully large, seeming to encompass the entirety of Prince Manor's basement. Lighting came in stark blasts from an unknown source overhead, illuminating small areas whilst abandoning the rest in bleak darkness.

Cautiously, he stepped forward, letting his foot be placed upon the floor with the upmost gentility. A clack sounded near his ear, drawing his head to whip to its direction. He itched for the wand the butler informed him would be placed somewhere in the room.

Assuring himself the clack had been his imagination or the product of a negligible source, Harry cleared his throat and extended his arm.

"_Accio wand_!" he intoned and waited for the warm wood to slap against his hand. It remained empty.

"_ACCIO_!" he called with more force and still nothing happened.

He swallowed thickly and took another step. He could feel the air thicken, pulling him toward the far end. Mentally psyching himself, he headed toward the pull.

Marcus nodded to Jeeves as the butler joined Severus and he in his private study. "Hmm, your boy is far too trusting," he mused.

"In Slytherin, moving toward the room's flow would be too trusting, yes," Severus conceded. "But I believe in Gryffindor," he sneered lightly, "they call it bravery."

"One hoped he has some aptitude for wandless magic," Marcus chuckled, baiting his grandson's temper, "For I doubt he'll find his wand in there."

Marcus glanced at Severus over the large mirror covered table. An image, lighted to show the entire room, displayed Harry's current situation. In the dark patches, Prince had erected several different sarcophagi, each containing a different magical creature, all largely which preyed upon your fears and inner weaknesses. When Marcus recruited, he'd send a time of five into the room together, usually only one or two emerged, dragging their shell-shocked comrades from the darkness. Severus himself could remember being banished to that room several times during his adolescence and had faced every creature his grandfather had to offer. He only hoped, Harry was either very lucky in his selection or had the nerves of a basilisk.

Harry's foot hit something solid, causing his to lurch forwards into a thickly ironed box. He felt the edges, they were cold like winter snow and dry like Aunt Marge's elbows.

Marcus chuckled, "He'll enjoy that one."

"What is it?" Severus asked softly, staring intently upon the mirror, his nerves prickling despite his control.

"A particularly nasty boggart," he smirked, "A simple ridikkulas won't be enough for that one. Oh look, the boy is afraid of dementors."

Severus cocked his head. Had his grandfather ever known of Harry's debacle during the boy's third year?

"What of a patronus charm?" Severus questioned off-handedly.

Marcus appeared to consider it, "Were the charm strong enough, I suppose the boggart could be guided back into its case. You would first need to identify the creature as a boggart, though.

The container blast open from its holding, nearly crushing Harry beneath it as he rolled from the path of the weight. He tucked underneath himself and rose to his feat, wishing never more before he'd had his wand.

A huge black form sprung from the broken lid, surging into the darkness above. Harry stumbled backwards, his weak eyes searching for the barely seen shape.

The darkness lunged for him, following his steps into the sparse light. He batted at it as it whipped around his head before withdrawing back into the darkness. The creature changed shape, the wisps of shadow becoming ragged and harsh like old fabric. A gaunt figure formed beneath the old robe and a light went off in Harry's head.

He searched in vain hope for his wand, the roaring rising in his ears as the faux-demontor pursued him. He outstretched his arm once more.

"_Expecto Patronum,_" he yelled to no avail. He cleared his mind and tried again. "_Expecto Patronum!"_ He felt the wall come up behind his back. The dementor closed in upon him. He could imagine the smirk on Marcus Prince's face. He felt anger bubble beneath his skin. His fingers brushed the tattered fabric and he reached out and grabbed the nearby robes of the dementor and snarled, demanding the magic to obey him. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

White light shot from his fingertips and through his enemy as heat traveled up his arms. The power flayed the creature, destroying any physical manifestation it may have held.

The ceiling lit, revealing a completely empty room. Even the broken chest had disappeared. A door appeared at the far end and Harry ran for it, slamming the portal shut once he was on the other side.

Jeeves was waiting for him.

"Where was my wand?" Harry roared, the excess magic still thrumming through him.

He would happily have removed the smirk on the tall man's face had he not been so winded. His arm started to tingle in the way it usually did if he fell asleep on it. Harry looked down; his sleeve clung to his skin in a sickly sticky sort of manner.

"The master is awaiting you in his study with young Master Snape," Jeeves informed him. Without waiting for a response he turned and briskly headed off through the labyrinth of hallways; Harry temporarily set aside his arm issues and jogged after the man.

"Uncalled for and reckless!" Harry paused in the hall just outside the door frame. His new _master _towered overover Prince patriarch despite their similar heights. For his own part, Marcus looked equal parts smug and displeased, like he'd succeeded in growing the world's most perfect lemon but hadn't expected to find a larva in it when he cut the fruit open.

"Mr. Potter, how pleased I am to see you pass your test," Marcus greeted, his eyes drifted down to Harry's arm, a slow smirk forming on his cultured face. "Not accustomed to wandless magic, are you?"he asked.

Harry gingerly cupped his forearm with his opposite hand, "No, sir."

"Not yet," Snape interjected. "His wand, grandfather," he reminded.

"Well, congratulations, my grandson. You managed to find a half-way decent apprentice, but only time will tell whether you can make anything of each other.

"Tell me, how do you plan to address the journeyman aspect of the agreement. You have your fellow masters picked out for the second half of the apprenticeship?"

Harry glanced to Snape in confusion.

"The ministry has been tight-lipped on that aspect. I cannot do anything without their go ahead," Severus responded smoothly.

Prince's expression turned peculiar and he nodded in rare understanding. "So will you wait to see your mother this visit?"

Severus and Harry wasted no time in escaping – leaving Prince Manor, ignoring Marcus Prince's request they wait to see Severus' mother. The same carriage they arrived in brought them back to the train station. As Harry approached the ticket window, Severus pulled him aside.

"How is your arm?" he inquired.

Harry flexed the appendage, "Still stings a little, but I think I'm alright." His master pulled his sleeve back and prodded the forearm muscles with a pointy finger, taking no heed to the way the fabric was soaked with some sort of clear, sticky substance. "How is it that was not a complete waste of time, Professor?"

Severus smirked, scourgifying both his hands and the material. "I never said it wouldn't be. However, the waste was necessary. He won't be able to cause problems for us later on, and remember what I said about politics."

Harry sighed and rubbed his now normal (mostly) arm. "So where are we off to now? Will we take another train?"

"No, this time we apparate." Snape grabbed Harry's arm and the world swirled around them.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The breath wheezed from Harry's lungs as the world rematerialized. He looked around, no recognition forthcoming as to his surroundings. An alley was all he could figure; they were in a dark, damp alley between two muggle shops.

"We're in London?" he asked, forcing a polite voice through his nausea while he made an educated guess.

His master, who'd been watching him with an indecipherable expression while Harry recovered, nodded shortly before taking off towards the busy street at the end of the way. The crowds were in full swing for the middle of a summer day and yet, the dark master easily shifted through the passersby, neither stumbling nor hitting anyone. Harry trotted less successfully in his wake.

_Maybe now that Voldemort's gone, he's going to try to lose me in Muggle London,_ came the cynical thought as yet another rushing businessman brushed his tender arm.

"Where in London are we?" He asked; his queasiness and the phantom pain in his forearm made the question come out petulantly. Snape's brow rose as he glanced down at the shorter wizard.

"I've been quite lenient today, Mr. Potter, considering your circumstances and the no doubt added stress, but must I really address with you once more the issue of respectful titles?" Severus sighed, "Does it particularly matter our precise location? You need clothes. We are going to get you clothes, end of story. Leave the whereabouts to me." Severus' long strides carried him through the tight spaces. Harry jogged to keep up with him. "Besides," he added, a sly smirk twisting his features into amusement, "You'll follow me regardless."

Severus cut into a store set well away from the main road. Harry stopped short, his hand itching towards his wand. Just when he'd imagined they might get on at least civilly, the greasy bat reemerged. He bit the side of his tongue and followed, determined to at least hold up his end of the truce whether or not Snape did. As they entered, Harry could not help his lip curling in distaste over the exorbitant amount of lady's shoes. A particular pair of pointy heeled death traps caught his eye. "Why on Earth would a woman submit herself to such torture?" Snape, unsurprisingly, ignored him and carried on towards the back of the deep store.

Harry huffed as they passed various under things and night clothes. One mannequin, dressed head to toe in clothes that would put Malfoy's preppy-ness to shame, made him shiver in revulsion and fear. He hoped Snape didn't expect him to dress like that because there was no way and hell he was making himself look like some pureblooded, snot nosed menace. "My clothes aren't _that _bad," Harry argued, although even he recognized his tone lacked conviction.

"And by what standards have you drawn that glorious judgment?" Severus asked incredulously as he headed toward the stairs. He quickly, without appearing to be in any hurry, ascended the stairs, forcing Harry to run to keep up with him. At the top, Severus surreptitiously rated the boy's breathing before continuing to the back of the store's fourth floor.

"Why do you insist on running everywhere?" Harry demanded as he conquered the final landing. The brisk jog to the store tacked on to the jaunt up the stairs had left his heart beating heavily and his breath nearly un-maskable. It wasn't so much that the climb had worn him out, but the compounded stress, the test back at Prince Manor, and the exercise were taking their tole. He noted his abused arm seemed to be sweating.

"Can't keep up with an old man, Potter?" A smirk overtook the dark man's face. "I took the liberty of sending your approximate measurements to my tailor," Severus explained. "He has selected and altered a few Muggle items for you. We will make sure they fit reasonably well; Professor McGonagall or Madame Pince can do any further alterations on most of the clothing." Severus' eyes darted to Harry's arm as he turned to lead Harry the rest of the way.

"What happened in that chamber," Harry broached, his hand reflexively covering his arm, "Is that normal for wandless magic?"

Severus took another curve in the bland hallway, "It depends on the type of innate magic belonging to the caster with contingencies upon the actual spell being used. Most wizards cannot accomplish more than the basic spell here or there, and fewer still can do so regularly." He stopped short and placed a hand upon an unobtrusive door's knob, "Succinctly, Mr. Potter, when it comes to any wandless sort, nothing, anything, and everything is considered normal."

Harry didn't have time to ask another question before they were entering a side room near the end of the shopping floor. As soon as Severus stepped through, he was attacked.

"Ah, Mr Snape," a sprightly, old man greeted, shaking Severus' hand heartily. "It is a pleasure to see you again so soon. When you called, I was practically beside myself with glee." He turned to Harry, "And this must the fine young scholar selected to be your intern. Harry Potter, yes?" The muggle held his gnarled hand out to Harry who shook it readily as he tried to place the other man's accent.

"Yes, sir," he smiled. Severus placed a friendly hand on Harry's shoulder that sent shivers down his spine.

"Harry will be interning with me, learning my grandfather's trade, for the next few years. Unfortunately, during his flight, his luggage was either stolen or misplaced. That is why I called you for a new wardrobe."

"Can't trust anyone these days," the man tutted, eyeing up Harry as if confirming the measurements Snape had given him. "Even the bloody airlines have forgotten the value of customer service. Next thing you know, we'll be no better off than those Yanks across the pond."

"He's from Chicago, Mr. Potter." Harry looked up at Snape, brows furrowed. Suddenly, the hand attached to his shoulder propelled him forward and into the waiting arms of the tailor and his measuring tape.

Severus smirked at the boy's horrified reaction to the sheer volume of clothing to try on and sat back to wait, unaware of the eyes watching him through the back windows from the building across the avenue.

-~PULSE~-

"Who's the boy with him? His son?" Tobias asked, a wistful smile forming upon his face.

Lucius sneered, "That _boy_ is Harry Potter. It is because of him that Severus was driven even further from you."

Tobias frowned, "How so?"

"Back in school, Severus had a thing for a muggle born, Lily Evans," Tobias nodded, remembering the girl Severus befriended. "The boy," Lucius continued, "is her brat and the figurehead of the group against our Lord."

"You mean your Lord," Tobias corrected, still staring out the window through the looking lens Lucius had provided him.

Lucius waved him off, "Either way, when I approached Severus with a possible way to awaken you, he dismissed me in favor of looking after Potter. He said he had no time for old men in hospitals." The blond moved away from the window, grimacing at the distinct lack of anything to look at in the room, filled as it was by extreme…muggle-ness.

Tobias watched the man his son had grown into with clear eyes. "I should still like to speak with him."

Lucius sighed, turning back to the older man with a face painted with commiseration, "You are a wanted man in the eyes of the ministry. Severus would turn you in; he could never forgive you for murdering those two wizards."

Tobias' head snapped to Lucius, the window iced over and cracked, "I am not responsible for those two men!"

Lucius shushed him and looked around for witnesses both along the street below and through the little window in the door. He placed his palms flat on his chest, "I know that, but the Ministry believes otherwise, and they've all but brainwashed your son." He placed a calming palm on Tobias' shoulder, "For your own safety, you must trust me."

Tobias looked through the frosty glass in regretful acceptance and nodded. "If we do this, brainwashed or not, no harm must come to Severus."

Lucius nodded immediately, "Once we bring back the Dark Lord and have tipped over the ministry, we will work on bringing your son back to you."

Tobias nodded to himself and turned to face Lucius, "You want to pulse? Well, preppy, let's get started." The older man flashed an insincere, bitter grin and clapped the blond wizard on the shoulder, preparing himself for a bumpy ride.

Lucius smiled, putting the Cheshire cat to shame. "Excellent."

-~PULSE~-

Harry emerged from the dressing room in a smart pair of black slacks and a pale grey button down. The salesman descended upon him and tugged at different areas of the fabric.

"Severus," he announced, "Your approximations were spot on." He turned to Harry, "You, my boy, have excellent proportions.

"I think my selections will suit all of your needs quite finely."

Severus stood and approached the old man, "I thank you for your time." He looked over Harry, "Did you have a jacket for this outfit?"

The tailor smiled, showing off his aged teeth, "Of course, I have the box here." He retrieved one of a small stack of boxes and handed it to Harry.

"You will have the rest of the boxes sent to my address?"

"Of course." Snape and the tailor grasped hands. "Will you join me in my office before you take your leave, I wish to verify the location." Severus nodded and followed the other man.

"Wait here, Potter," he commanded. Harry nodded, far more concerned with the nice jacket and whether or not he looked like a rich ponce in the new clothes.

-~PULSE~-

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice," Severus spoke first once the door was firmly shut.

The tailor's smile dropped, and he retrieved a pack of cloves from his pocket and lit one, seemingly fascinated for a moment by the swirly smoke that emanated from the brown wrap. "Anything for an old friend of the family," he grasped his own left shoulder with his right hand. Severus nodded once in return, watching with wary eyes as the man took a sip of his steaming coffee.

"Have you heard my father's gone missing?" Severus inquired, his voice masked of all emotion.

The old man sighed, "I had. The entire mess is quite unfortunate and dangerous all the more to happen so close to our time of the year." He took a long drag. Severus batted the smoke away from his face. "As of yet, we have no leads to the culprits. What about you wizard boys, are there any clues we might have missed."

"Without knowing exactly what you know, it would be hard to say what you missed. The aurors did, however, release to Dumbledore a magic scan of the area." Severus pulsed, his lips pursed in consternation. "Someone had been pulsing."

The old man's face morphed in distress. He nodded in resignation to the growing situation, "Then there is little else that could have happened. "Your father has awakened and in doing so has broken our most sacred law. The lives of those three wizards cannot be let go without payment, Severus." His age worn hand came upon Severus' shoulder heavily, "If he contacts you, do not hesitate in handing him over to us."

Severus started, shaking the hand from his shoulder, "It cannot have been his fault. He would never have murdered those men unless they attacked him first. He knows your laws are important for all who pulse." His lip curled as his anger grew, "Those men were Death Eaters, probably lackeys of the Malfoys. They could have kidnapped him for all you know, and you want to treat the man as an escaped criminal?"

The muggle's visage turned harsh, the small wisps of smoke from the cigarette disappeared and the coffee on his desk froze, "You will leave that deduction for us to decide, Mr. Snape. If he contacts you, it is imperative you bring him to us." His voice turned deadly quiet, "Do not disappoint me."

Severus' fingertips itched and burned, he snarled to himself. "Thank you for the clothes," he acknowledged through gritted teeth and turned from the man to collect his apprentice.

-~PULSE~-

"So where to now?" Harry asked tiredly, ready for their bizarre outing to be concluded. He noticed his master's mood was dramatically darker upon leaving the tailor's audience. He wondered what could have happened behind those doors to upset the man so.

Severus looked over to the teen speculatively, still debating how to approach the subject of the headmaster's demand without the boy running and screaming his teacher wanted to teach him dark magic. His _tailor_ would no doubt find fault with him not requesting permission to teach the boy their dark art, but he'd never heeded their authority before, why should he change? "We have a few more stops, two are in Diagon Alley. Would you prefer to eat now or later?"

Harry's eyes showed his surprise at the considerate inquiry. He absentmindedly scratched his stomach, regretting his decision to skip breakfast but not wanting to admit it. "I don't guess it really matters. Will the next two stops take long?" Severus shook his head no. "Then maybe we could eat afterwards?"

-~PULSE~-

Harry was quickly beginning to realize, side-along apparition would never be comfortable with Snape. Once again, his bodily reactions forced him to double over and take a moment lest he spill the fictional breakfast he'd had that morning.

"Really, Potter?" Snape sneered. "Dementors and torture chambers do nothing to you, but a little side-along's twisted your cookies?"

"It's not as if," he gasped, "it's the most pleasant thing to get used to." He rubbed away the small bead of sweat that had collected on his wrist.

Snape tilted his head in concession and walked into the Leaky Cauldron.

"Sir," Harry called the man's attention, "What's up with my arm? Will it keep sweating like this?"

Snape waved a quick, wordless evanesco and scourgify, "It should stop in a few hours.

"Our first destination will be Madame Malkin's; hopefully with our stops today, we can exterminate you of your general ragamuffin appearance."

"We can only hope," Harry muttered under his breath.

Harry ignored the stares most of the patrons gave the odd pair. Harry thought back, it was unlikely there'd been any sort of press release as to their "punishment;" he simply doubted there'd been time.

Severus tapped the entrance's bricks and motioned for Harry to keep up as he, without further delay, entered the alley. Harry let the back exit from the Leaky Cauldron swing closed and hurried after the potions master.

Madame Malkin's was only a short jaunt from the entrance, a prime position in Diagon Alley which allowed the little robe store to flourish into the main provider of quality robes at prices acceptable to most of the wizarding population. So, when Snape told Harry they were shopping for robes, he was not surprised that that was where they were headed to get them.

Harry entered behind his Master and followed the taller man to the counter near the rear of the store.

"Professor," the stubby seamstress looked surprised but greeted him all the same; greeted him, that is, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes and a tightening of her wand hand, "What can I do for you today?"

"School robes," Severus answered shortly. He'd never really cared for the witch; every year when he was a student, she'd always commented on the negative aspects of his appearance. She wasn't overtly mean about it, but instead, spoke to him in such a way as if she was doing him an extreme service by calling attention to his various shortcomings. Once, just before his sixth year, he'd gone off on the lady, shouting for the whole store to hear that he was definitely aware he was far too skinny, should get more sun, and should, at the very least change shampoos (since his current one obviously wasn't working). The Madame scolded him for his impolite attitude, pulled him down by him by the scruff of the neck, and tossed him from her shop, ordering him not to come back until he'd learned some matters.

Only a few words from his grandfather had gotten him his robes for the upcoming year and the _privilege_ of gracing her store once more. Once he graduated, he avoided her shop altogether.

Until now that was. Now, his apprentice, he could hardly think the word without a sneer, needed robes, and he was thus required to furnish the boy with them.

Quite obviously, the universe was out to get him by creating new and unusual ways of torment now that the Dark Lord was gone and could not dole out his portion of crucios.

"Aren't you a bit old for them, Professor?" she asked obtusely.

"They're for Potter, here," he nodded his head to Harry.

Madame Malkin looked past the Hogwarts Professor for the first time since he'd entered the shop. Her face alit upon seeing Harry.

"Mr. Potter, how wonderful it is to see you again. What can I do for you today?" Harry was awed by the difference between when she asked him from when she asked Professor Snape. He went to answer but was cut off.

"Are you daft woman?" Severus asked smoothly, perturbed, though not surprised, that he was being ignored in favor of Harry. "I just mentioned he needed school robes. Perhaps you've forgotten during the past few seconds?"

She glared at the potions master but didn't respond. "So, school robes, Mr. Potter?" She confirmed cheerily, "Seems all you young boys grow like weeds at this age. Would you like me to put in a charm to allow the material to extend a few centimeters?"

"That will not be necessary, Madame," Severus responded for Harry once more, earning a scowl from the teenager. "He will be getting the Class A line. It is my understanding the charms do not stick or combine well to that particular set of material and features."

Her lips pinched, "Quite right." She turned to Harry, "Is that acceptable to you, Mr. Potter; the Class A is a bit more pricey than the standard Class S most students go with."

Harry looked between the two adults in bewilderment. He'd never even heard of different classes of school robes. He assumed, as a uniform, they were all…uniform.

"I…I guess if Professor Snape says the Class A, I'll get those."

Madame Malkin huffed but turned to get her spelled measuring tape nonetheless.

The robes would be ready within the week; apparently the Class A also took longer to make. Harry stayed near the racks of premade items while the Professor sorted out payment. He wasn't comfortable with someone else, much less Snape, paying for him. He watched the potions master lean over and say something Harry couldn't hear to the seamstress. She looked shocked and her gaze shifted between them several times before she nodded, shaking her head as she made further notes upon her parchment.

Severus, giving nothing away by the means of posture or facial expression, signed a draft note and ushered his apprentice from the store.

Harry smiled as they exited the crowded shop and stepped into the bustle of Diagon Alley, "So we're done with clothing, right?" He was relieved, having changed and tried on more things than he usually did in several weeks and it wasn't even lunch time.

"We have one more stop. You will need robes that are not part of your uniform." Harry visibly deflated.

"Why didn't we just get them there?" he asked.

"Because I do not wish to give her any more business than absolutely necessary," Severus explained evenly. "Unfortunately, Hogwart's has signed an agreement with her to require students to purchase their uniforms from her store. Even more unfortunately, apprentices fall under that requirement as well. That is also why she tried to discourage you from buying the Class A. They are harder to make and she doesn't actually get anymore profit from them because of the way the subsidies Hogwarts pays her works."

"Is that why you wanted them?" Harry asked. At Snape's raised brow he hurried to explain, "I noticed you didn't seem to like her much. Is this, like, your way of getting a jab in on her?"

Severus snorted humorlessly, "I don't like a lot of people, Potter. The robes we ordered are simply better robes. There are protection enchantments embedded into the material, which is also of a finer weave, that make the robes worth more."

"Oh," Harry responded simply, thinking that was rather generous of Snape to pay extra for the better robes. He mentally placed a tally in the "Nice" column he was keeping in his head while he decided what he thought of their new situation.

He followed Snape closely, enjoying the fact that people automatically moved out of the way of the stoic man. He was getting better at walking in the open space their avoidance left behind the taller man. As they walked, his mind drifted to Hermione's words over being able to choose which subject one could learn from their master.

"Professor," Harry called. The older man grunted that he was paying attention. "Hermione mentioned that most of the teachers on staff have multiple masteries; are you like that, too?"

"Yes," Severus grunted. "It is convenient to earn multiples at a single time. Often learning an additional subject helps with the first. Why? Are you thinking of taking up more than one?" Severus smirked. "You'll never finish in two years if you do."

Harry did a double take, nearly running into a lamppost in the process, "You said the apprenticeship takes at least five years." He followed the potions master into an off shoot from the main alley.

Severus approached a door set back from the off shoot. "It's all very variable. Depending on your aptitude and dedication, it is conceivable that one could finish before then. However, the more complex the program, the longer you can expect it to take. The upper average is ten years. If it takes longer than that, the apprentice is most likely a lost cause."

Severus pulled the door. It stayed stationary. He looked up in consternation. "Not this bloody parlor trick again," he snarled to himself.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Severus looked around swiftly. "Potter move aside." He pushed Harry into the wall behind his person and away from the door.

Harry took his wand from his back pocket. "What is it, Professor?"

"Quiet," Snape ordered. His healthy paranoia kicked into high gear. He focused himself; the colors and shadows contrasted from each other sharply and the bustling sounds clacked and pounded in sync with his heart. His eyes snapped to the shop opposite their destination.

The street wasn't as busy as the main alley, but there were still various patrons going to and from the different shops. Harry could not see anyone who might mean them harm. Death Eater activity had been quiet, for the most part, since the beginning of summer.

His master's form flinched and darted forward. A figure in unobtrusive brown robed figure stumbled from behind some rubbish bins in an opening between two shops on the opposite side of the street. Snape's black form dove just in time to escape a well aimed reducto.

The alley erupted in chaos, the dozen or so shoppers scrambled and collided in their rush to get back in doors.

Harry ducked back into the alcove of the robe shop Snape'd planned to enter. So far the attacker hadn't aimed for him, but he did not want to take any chances of a stray hex coming his way. He raised his own wand and took aim at the attacker.

The stinging hex grazed the brown clad wizard who tripped and fell in Harry's direction. He tumbled and rolled on the ground, further approaching the younger man.

"Potter, move!" Snape ordered as he picked himself up from the ground, but Harry'd inadvertently cornered himself. Harry fired his wand once more, but the attacker reached for Harry's arm before the hex could hit him and threw him off balance. Harry felt his feet being pulled from beneath him and the whole world shifted sideways.

His head smacked into the pavement, driving the corner of his eye glasses to scratch harshly against his temple. The attacker grabbed him by the throat, pulling him upward with adrenaline backed strength. Harry felt himself pulled against the man, a strong arm crossing against his throat and a wand pressing into his injured head.

"Stay bac-oomph-" The world closed in on Harry as the air was sucked and condensed around him. The attacker was catapulted behind him and into the shop. Bricks and debris scattered everywhere. Mortar rained down from above him as another force came from behind him, propelling him forward like a giant, invisible hand landing a heavy blow to the center of his back.

He landed on the street before him once more, his cheek connecting to the cobblestones with a resounding smack. He forced his head to snap up despite the way his vision swam in doing so.

Snape stood, panting heavily, a few meters from him, watching him with those eerily steady eyes. The master broke the trance first, blinking several times and approaching Harry's horizontal resting place. Snape reached down and pulled the younger boy upwards.

"Halt!" a voice from the alley's end ordered. Harry's wand flew into Snape's hand who then handed it off to Harry as he readied himself for another fight. The older man squinted and sighed, lowering his arm to the side and gesturing for Harry to do the same.

Auror Shacklebolt and his team approached the pair.

"Really, Severus," the dark auror smiled, "We need to stop running into each other at my crime scenes."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Shacklebolt dropped a thick file upon the interrogation room table.

"Tell me, Severus, how exactly am I supposed to _not_ arrest you?" With unsteady hands, he pulled the area signature scan from the folder. Severus watched the other man and leaned back lazily in his stiff chair.

Shacklebolt pointed out the tell tale spikes on the line chart of the scan. Severus noticed the other man's hands were shaking minutely. He remained silent and instead watched the man's face; something was off with the auror.

"Now's the time where you explain just what the hell – other than _pulsing_ – could cause these spikes," Shacklebolt prompted expectantly.

Severus remained silent, face blanked of any explanations. Shacklebolt's brow drew downward with every passing moment, the lines of anger harshly marking his usually smooth brow.

"Sometime today, Severus," the auror started tapping his wand upon his free hand in agitation.

Severus leaned forward, posture still relaxed and folded his hands before him atop the table. He tilted his head as he regarded the scan. "I did," he met the auror's eyes, "what I had to to protect Mr. Potter." He calmly brushed some imaginary lint from his sleeve. "Surely you cannot find faults with aiding the _great_ Harry Potter.

"And if you can, know that I've no doubt today was not an isolated incident. The boy will be a target once again." Severus watched as the storm settled over Shacklebolt's face. "Where is he, anyway? Incarcerating the Boy Who Lived and Lived, as well?" Severus flippantly asked.

"No, just ex-Death Eaters," Shacklebolt shot back. "You see nothing wrong with being identified as the one who was practicing dark, illegal magic in broad daylight, in full view of witnesses?" The auror nervously wet his lips.

Severus smirked and leaned backward in return. Gauging out how far and how quickly the usually calm and genial man's odd behavior would carry him.

For his part, Shacklebolt looked as far from pleased as a hairless cat left out in the sun. He pulled out the chair opposite Severus and sat. "Let me make something painfully, excruciatingly clear, Severus. The only reason you aren't being charged is due to the respect I hold for you as a fellow Order member."

"Nothing to do with the fact that you have no proof the man lying in your morgue wasn't the one _practicing_," Severus added.

Shacklebolt rubbed his brow, massaging the tense muscles as if the mere mention of the Order had tripled his anxiety. "This is the second time the scans have produced these results in very recent history. The second time you were conveniently nearby when they did. I was able to keep your father's disappearance low profile, but these similarities are going to raise more than a few eyebrows." He paused, regarding Severus from beneath his brow, "They will likely charge you with those other three wizard's deaths."

Severus' smirk vanished his own brow furrowing; he leaned forward. "I had nothing to do with that," he darkly reminded the auror. "I had nothing to do with any of your crimes. Where is Potter?" He was beginning to distrust the sanity of the man before him and didn't like not knowing where the young wizard was in light of it.

"And I believe you," Shacklebolt assured, ignoring the question of Harry. "But I'd be one of few. You have made a lot of enemies over the years."

"And despite my natural inclination to do otherwise, I have never considered you one of them," Severus thought it best to remind Shacklebolt that though Severus had never acknowledged any kindness on the auror's part, that didn't mean they were on opposite sides of the table. Except for literally at that moment, that is.

Shacklebolt tilted his head, but the gesture was hardly friendly, "Could've fooled me.

"But that point is meaningless, now. You have the unfortunate displeasure of being on Minister Heller's hit list."

"What's the glorified pigeon have to do with this?" Severus questioned as that stone was dropped, his lax posture draining away to make room for a whole other level of insanity in the small exam room.

"He's at the top of my food chain." Shacklebolt regarded an area just past Severus' shoulder, "Funny thing is, I used to be honorable before I met you lot. Always did right by everyone whenever I could.

"Only now, the choice isn't between right or wrong. It is either wrong by you," his dark eyes shifted to Severus', "or wrong by me."

Severus eyes narrowed, "What do you want, Shacklebolt? What will it take for you to deliver me my charge and allow us to leave?"

"Heller wants your cooperation in an investigation of the Headmaster's actions, particularly regarding the end of term last year."

Severus felt his lip twitch in a snarl, "You would betray the Headmaster, the leader of the Order, the man to whom you swore an oath?" He couldn't believe that there was this big conspiracy brewing in the ministry against Dumbledore. He'd been under the impression the apprenticeship arrangements were the Headmaster's punishment from the ministry on that matter.

"And you would ask me to betray him as well?" Severus scoffed, "You truly aren't the man I thought you were." Severus' lip curled in distaste, "I thought you better than to try blackmail."

The auror straightened in his seat, his jaw grinding in frustration. "Can't you see? This isn't about what I want. I have no choice!"

Severus slammed his palm open faced on the table, "There is always a choice!"

Both men stared at the other, breath coming in heaves as neither would submit and look away. Severus searched the other man's eyes for a remnant of the true Kinglsey Shacklebolt, the man who would never consider betraying Albus Dumbledore or the Order of the Phoenix.

Shacklebolt folded first, looking away from Severus' piercing gaze; he ran a palm over his shaved head. "I want your complete assistance with your father's investigation. I want you to aid the Minister." He leaned forward in an awkward attempt at menace as Heller, just like the mentioning of the Order, induced a fresh round of tension clearly visible on the dark man's visage; the fragile patience Shacklebolt had regained shattering in the face of the still searching potion master, "I want you to keep that large nose of yours out of my investigations."

Severus laughed bitterly, finding an iota of sick amusement at the auror's psychological condition and realizing the personal attack for what it was, an attempt to goad him into cooperation, "You'll have spent a decade beneath the earth before I ever become a lapdog for your Minister.

"And do please inform me," Severus continued, "as to how I can both assist you in your search for my father as well as keep my _finely distinguished proboscis_ out of your affairs?" He tapped the side of his nose with a single fingertip.

Shacklebolt stood abruptly, towering over the still seated man, "So, you don't want to do things the nice way, fine by me, we'll keep this strictly transactional. I'll even spell it out for you so that you can see you don't have any more of a choice than I do." He jabbed his finger in exclamation onto the cleared table.

He drifted off, a calm spreading over his features as he regarded the scans, lightly caressing them with his fingertips. For the first time, Severus became frighteningly unnerved by Shacklebolt's behavior. A mad but logical enough for appearances' sake auror he could handle; he didn't like his chances with one who'd gone completely around the bend. "Those are the only copies as of yet. No one else has seen them aside from Heller, you, and I, and these questions have not been monitored."

"I have less idea as to what you are talking about now than usual." He leaned backward in disgust. Refusing to let the twisted auror think he was backing him in a corner.

Shacklebolt let the insult slide. He reached once more for the folder, flipping the pages with practiced ease, the calm having stretched into every fiber of his being. "Fascinating people, Muggles. They use technology and science to overcome the obstacles lacking magic has foisted upon them."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I assume at some point you will reach a relevant meaning." He waved his hand to the side as a gesture, knocking the file to the floor accidentally on purpose. Severus made no move to pick the papers up.

Shacklebolt glared at the other man and reluctantly retrieved his file, trying to shift everything back into a semblance of order.

"Muggle hospital records," he held a long sheet of paper up by way of explanation, returning to his seat in the process. "I know your father wasn't carried out of the hospital. He walked out on his own two feet, but someone had to have been there to help him."

"I was there when you showed. Why would I have returned to the scene?" Severus argued.

"For exactly that reason, to throw us off your trail. Who else would want your father?"

Severus' mind relaxed slightly in the face of Shacklebolt's fishing. Mad or not, fishing for information meant the aurors hadn't yet enough to really hold him, all he had to do was get out and to Dumbledore in one piece and then they could figure out what was wrong with their auror associate. "If I wanted him removed from the hospital, there were plenty of official channels to accomplish it. There would have been no need to create a trail to throw you off of. There are too many troll-sized holes in your theory to fall into; you can't pin those wizards on me."

"I can't," Shacklebolt admitted, a slightly crazed look in his eyes, "But Heller can. And he will, if you do not cooperate."

They entered another stare off; this one remained until a knock at the door startled them both. Shacklebolt stood and waved his wand over the confirmation latch.

Minister Heller was the first to enter, causing a wave of noxious apprehension to rush over Severus, completely unnoticeable to any casual observer. The second entrant was the Headmaster, however, and the wave subsided. Severus watched as Heller inconspicuously pressed a hand firmly upon Shacklebolt's shoulder; the element of madness left the auror's eyes, and he was left looking slightly confused by his surroundings.

"Ah, gentlemen, how are things going?" Dumbledore asked, pointedly ignoring the stretched atmosphere.

"Fine Headmaster," Severus bit out, standing from the interrogation chair. "Kinglsey was just telling me he had all he needed from me for this interview." He nodded to the auror convincingly. Shacklebolt blinked but nodded in affirmation.

"Good, good." The Headmaster turned to the Minister, "And you were worried, Oramando."

"All he needed?" Heller questioned incredulously. "What of," he grabbed the file and flipped through hurriedly, reaching the end quickly. He looked up to the three wizards and flipped through the file once again. He regarded the two wizards and nodded at Shacklebolt who didn't seem to know how to respond. "Well," he declared, a brow risen in Severus' direction, "I suppose everything has been taken care of. Mr. Potter is in the medical examination room; seems he took a bit of a hit to the head in all of the commotion. You might as well be on your way to see to the lad."

"Perhaps Auror Shacklebolt could escort us?" Severus requested, needing to have left the building before the Minister got the auror alone. In a stroke of luck he couldn't have dreamt for, the Minister's lifting of whatever overt control he'd been exercising over Shacklebolt had left the man in a bit of a trance. No doubt, Heller believed the absence of the scans meant Severus was going along with their scheme, the moment he got Shacklebolt alone to obtain the other man's version of events he would realize otherwise. Severus needed above all else to have destroyed the incriminating scans before then.

-~PULSE~-

The ride down to medical ward was thankfully silent. The Headmaster seemed reluctant to speak freely within the auror department, and Shacklebolt was still confused by the gaps in his memory. Severus wisely remained quiet, his hand itching for the soothing presence of his wand as the paper's he'd lifted burned a whole in his pocket. The lift opened on the correct floor and the Headmaster strode directly to Harry. Shacklebolt grabbed Severus' arm on the way out.

"Are we alright, Severus?" he asked, the murky waters visible behind his eyes.

"As much as we ever are, I suppose," Severus offered.

Shacklebolt shook his head and leaned in close, "Something doesn't seem right, I can't really remember what happened just a few moments ago. It's like I can see it, but everything is playing on fast forward. I thought it best not to mention it to Heller until I had a chance to speak to you."

Severus wanted to take pity on the bewitched man knew his safety couldn't afford it. He jerked his arm from the auror's grasp. "Maybe next time you'll not waste either of our afternoons by bringing me in for questions you aren't even going to do the courtesy of remembering." He made a point of angrily turning away from the other man. He stopped abruptly, three steps from the auror. Severus faced Shacklebolt once more, "I suggest you avoid meeting with Heller one on one and instead get with the Headmaster, away from this place." Severus nodded once and turned yet again.

Shacklebolt grasped Severus' bicep once more and sighed heavily, "Never forget that when comes down to it, we are friends." Severus couldn't hold back his snort. "I want to help you, Severus."

Severus eyed Shacklebolt sharply, "It isn't what _you_ want that's bothering me." He left the other man to linger in the entryway.

Dumbledore, while conversing with Harry, watched the two men from across the room, a look of befuddlement hidden masterfully upon his old face. Severus, having been in close contact with the man for most of his own adult life, knew he would have to explain his interview later; a fact that he was not dreading for once since it might allow him some clarity on the subject, as well. It was with mixed emotions that he approached his apprentice's bed.

He turned his attention to the young wizard. The boy had been banged up during the altercation, but looked well enough to simply visit Madame Pomfrey as opposed to St. Mungo's. The on-sight medi-wizard had set to knitting most of the open cuts, cleaned up the scratches, and had bandaged Harry's arm wand arm. Severus hoped they hadn't looked too deeply into the boy's injuries lest the potion master find himself in the middle of yet another inquiry.

Technically speaking, allowing wizards who had not yet graduated to practice wandless magic to any serious extent, such as a patronus charm, was frowned upon. It was not illegal, but Severus did not need any more excuses for Heller to target him.

"Well, Potter," he began, voice gruff as his aggravation with Shacklebolt bled into his tone, "have you had your fill of auror worshipers or do you wish to bask here for the night?"

Harry frowned but refrained from arguing with the man in the middle of the auror medical room.

"I'm fine, sir," Harry assured. He scratched at his bandages only to have his wrist seized by his master. He gaze sharply met Severus'.

"Do not bother those until Madame Pomfrey has a chance to look at them," he ordered.

Harry grimaced but nodded all the same and rolled his legs over the side of the bed nearest Severus, not wanting to place the man at his back. He stood and immediately felt his world shift sideways. A firm hand grabbed his elbow and kept him upright. He stared at the floor and watched the ground and Severus' shoes move across his field of vision with one another. He looked up to his master's face, distractedly thinking the man wasn't sneering like he expected. For a moment, he appeared almost concerned. Harry straightened and then shook off the steadying hand.

The expected sneer formed. "Looking for attention, Potter?" he demanded. "You said you were fine." The older wizard retrieved the boy's chart from the end of the bed and flipped through the pages. Harry set to re-donning his shoes mumbling to himself about bipolar instructors, while the Headmaster and the Potions professor read the notes.

"You got yourself a nasty bump there, Harry," the Headmaster commented. "Are you up to flooing?" he asked. "If not, we can always travel by ground."

"He'll be fine," Severus asserted, panicking at the thought of a train ride with the headmaster as well as seeing that the head injury was minimal enough to not be at risk of exacerbation by floo.

"Harry?" Dumbledore looked for Harry's agreement.

Harry stood from the bed and shifted up and down on his feet, his vision staying in place the whole time. "I think I'm good, sir."

"Mr. Shacklebolt," Dumbledore called, "You will do us the pleasure of escorting us to the floo station?"

"Of course, Headmaster," Shacklebolt assured, straightening from the wall he'd taken to leaning against whilst he waited to bring them to the exit of the aurory. He approached the trio while they headed towards him and the lift. "So our young Mr. Potter is doing just fine, yes?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. He supposed it must have been since Severus had dealt with the attack mostly by himself, but he noticed his reluctant master seemed to have become worse for wear during their not-so-speedy time at the aurory. Granted, all Harry really did was wait in a bed while Severus was interviewed, but he wondered if Snape's declined demeanor was solely because of the questions.

They entered into the elevator alongside several other occupants, making for a tight and silent ride down to the main floor. The Hogwarts residents said good bye to their escort and entered the main floo.

Severus smiled wryly at Dumbledore and threw the powder to the floor. "_Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office!_"

~=PULSE=~

The wizard was blown once again flat on his back. He watched the hand-painted ceiling's figurines sway to and throw as he tried to recapture his breath.

"Honestly," his teacher spat with venom, "You would think you would have accomplished something by now!" The frustrated teacher with his shortly cropped hair and furious gate paced the furniture-less room. When he spoke, his voice echoed off the walls, testifying to the lack of objects.

The student, for one, was grateful the obstructions had been moved beforehand. It was bad enough he'd been slammed against the walls and doors, he hated the idea of his body being hurled at the edge of an antique coffee table or into an heirloom vase.

Tobias Snape charged at the blond wizard, easily lifting the man from the floor and tossing him against the wall with restrained force.

"For all your posturing about blood purity, you sure aren't taking to this subject well," Tobias growled. Over the few days since his release, he had regained his lost energy. His body was still not as strong as it had been pre-coma but he was well enough to be menacing to the blond wizard before him.

Lucius straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders roughly, itching for the familiar wood of his wand. He'd made the agreement to place his wand elsewhere during their lessons, and although wandless magic was not completely out of his range of abilities, he didn't have much aptitude for it. Either way, he knew killing the glorified muggle before he was able to learn his trade did not fit in the plan, so he swallowed the lump that was his pride for the moment and practiced several calming breaths before trying to speak to the eldest Snape.

"I can't believe it was easy for you to learn this your first go round," Lucius ventured. "Perhaps you could practice a little restraint and not pummel me every single chance you get," he bit out through grinding teeth.

His teacher merely heaved in response.

"How long did it take Severus to learn?" Lucius demanded in a tone he refused to identify as petulant.

Tobias smirked and replied with a dry response, "He surpassed your current progress within the first hour."

And they'd been at it for seven.

The man's instruction left much to be desired, according to the wizard.

The wizard's intellect was likewise for the man.

He thought perhaps he'd been spoiled by his wife and son; all the wizards he'd ever been in close contact with were, to put it bluntly since Lucius Malfoy in fact was not, smart.

"Again!" he ordered. Lucius walked away from the wall, to the center of the room where they'd placed a large training mat. "Remember," Tobias chastised, circling his student, "You must feel the energy around you and _capture_ it.

"We aren't meditating; it is not enough to just be aware of the forces all around us." He stopped to stand directly before the rich wizard, "You must discover how to master it as it flows into you and through your veins." He looked off to the side, Lucius looked just as dim as he had before their last go. "After that, all you need is to expel the energy from you at your will," he finished. "I understand the process is much like when you wizards channel your magic through a wand." Tobias rubbed his temples in frustration. "Think of your hand as the wand," he tried, wishing his son was there for the least of reasons being as a wizard, Severus might could teach Lucius Malfoy how to pulse.

"Alright," Tobias took in a deep breath. "Like before, I'll throw a soft pulse to you. All you need do is accept it into you, hold it for a short moment, and then let it release naturally."

Tobias planted his feet shoulder width apart, his front steadied and forward facing to Lucius. Goosebumps rose upon his hairy arms as he pushed his palms together against and unseen force. His heart beat accelerated slightly, and the room became softly cooler. He gently flicked his wrists.

Lucius felt the force slam into him like a brick wall. The carpet slipped beneath his feet, inserting itself beneath his head. Within the split second, his breath left his body, his heart lunged forward. He fought, once again, to regain his breath.

Tobias' displeased face came into view over him.

"Well, that proves that theory," Tobias declared.

Lucius frowned. "What theory?"

Tobias analyzed his fingernails nonchalantly, "Hair length has absolutely no correlation to talent." He stood and walked to the double doors. "Notify me when you are ready to really put forth some real effort."

Lucius, in a fit of most uncharacteristic behavior for the bigot of a wizard, rolled his eyes and screamed silently. The Dark Lord had better appreciate the hell he was going through for him.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I feel it quite necessary to apologize for my absence and hope I may be forgiven for it. :) Just would like to offer an oath that I will not abandon any of my stories no matter how much the "real world" tries to make me do so. Hope you enjoy, here is the next chapter.**

Chapter Eight

Harry bounced onto his usual bed in the infirmary, setting his new jacket carefully on the bed beside him. It had picked up a bit of dirt during the skirmish, but Harry was pleased by it nonetheless. His potions master banged on the matron's door, offering an apologetic shrug when she angrily yanked it open, glaring accusatorily at the professor.

"A student requires your attention," Severus informed her dryly. Dumbledore glided over toward Harry.

"It has been a busy day for you, yes, Mr. Potter?" The headmaster asked, adjusting the candelabra on the end table.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, fiddling with the wraps on his arm.

"I understand you had a bit of a run in with a rather nasty wizard, Mr. Potter?" Madame Pomfrey crowded the headmaster from Harry's bedside. She waved her wand over the young patient.

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry agreed warily, watching the witch as she made some key parts of his body light up like a deranged Christmas tree.

"Potter, I'll be with the Headmaster. Occupy yourself but keep away from trouble and remain available." The Potions Master took hold of the Headmaster's shoulder and nudged the elder wizard towards the infirmary doors.

"Well, Mr. Potter, whoever did these wrappings certainly takes no pride in his work…"

-~PULSE~-

"It was eerie, Headmaster," Severus took the proffered tea cup with the overly sweetened tea.

"And you say he tried to blackmail you, claiming he had no choice but to betray me himself?" Dumbledore leaned backward, stroking his beard in a slow rhythmic manner.

Severus set his tea down in disgust, "Kingsley Shacklebolt is so clean his arm pits squeak when he walks. What on earth could the Minister have on him that would make him submit? What's more, I'm certain he's under some sort of imperious-like curse that keeps him docile, something tactile induced, perhaps."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore agreed, "A method that induces irrationality and is apparent in the subject's behavior. The Minister had to release Kingsley from the spell when I entered the room. Had we both been able to witness the oddities, we could have created waves for him."

Severus nodded in agreement. "Do you know of any such curses off hand? I have never studied such a potion."

Dumbledore gazed into the fire, "I've an idea, but I'd rather not speak of it just yet." The old man shook himself and faced Severus once more. "The whole ordeal reinforces my belief that you must begin Harry's training in certain offensive magics." He raised his brow expectantly, forcing his meaning to be clear.

The potions master grimaced, "We've barely begun discussing what he expects from the apprenticeship. I just put in an order for his robes."

Dumbledore palmed his hands upon the desk. "Do you consider Mr. Potter a target of the remaining Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers?"

"Yes," Severus answered flatly sensing the headmaster's direction.

"And do you consider yourself to be one such target?"

"Yes." Severus pursed his lips in annoyance.

"And was he able to efficiently defend himself this afternoon?"

Severus refused to answer. Given the chance, the boy might have stumbled into a stroke of luck against their attacker.

"The boy is in danger," Dumbledore calmly reiterated. "Do you deny you are now the best person to protect him and in turn teach him to protect himself?"

Severus threw his hands into the air in exasperation, "Very well, you old coot!" He whirled to the exit. Hand upon the knob, he turned, an apologetic grimace upon his face, "I do agree with you, Headmaster. The boy needs training, but so far the knowledge of pulsing has brought precious little besides negativity for me. I have reason to hesitate before dragging Potter into that."

~=PULSE=~

Harry looked up from his new wrappings at the sound of the infirmary doors, expecting to see Snape arriving to collect him. Madame Pomfrey was, for some reason beyond Harry's comprehension, reluctant to release her young patient without Snape's express permission. As direct consequence, Harry had taken to counting the strands of fiber visible in his wraps in an approximated three by three centimeter square on the top of his left hand. It was a fascinating task, indeed.

His M.I.A. master, however, was not his visitor. Hermione's naturally pleased-with-her life demeanor, attatched to Hermione herself, entered through the doors with all of her usual contentment. Based on her expression, Harry was unsure if he was happy to see her. _That _thought brought a grimace to his mind, a reaction barely contained, once he realized how positively _Snape-ish _it was to think of one of his best friends like that.

"There was a rumor you were here, Harry," she remarked by way of greeting. "Are you getting your hospital stay quota filled early this year?"

"Ha bloody ha, Hermione," Harry countered dryly as he tried to adjust his eyes from their prolonged close focus of his arm. "Can't spare some sympathy for the injured?" He held up his arms by way of explanation.

Hermione looked on in concern, "What happened to you? Is this why Professor Moody is coming to castle early?"

Harry tilted his head, "I don't know anything about that. We, Snape and me, were questioned by the aurors after we were attacked. Ron's coming back, too?"

Hermione looked confused for a moment, "I guess you haven't really had a chance to hear, yet. The Ministry _encouraged_ Professor Moody to come to Hogwarts earlier than he was scheduled to, I am assuming because of your attacked. Seems like the Minister himself got involved."

"Is Ron moving back into the tower?" Harry asked.

"No, he'll be staying with Professor Moody, just like we'll all be staying with our instructors. Hasn't Professor Snape spoken to you about it?"

"We haven't had much of a talk about anything, yet. I sort of assumed after what Dumbledore-"

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Hermione interjected.

"Yeah, after _he_ told us we have to move in with the professors, I just assumed it would happen sometime today. Didn't plan on ending up here, though," he gestured to the infirmary room.

Hermione looked down, uncharacteristically avoidant as she picked at Harry's comforter. "Harry," she ventured, "Ron claims you picked a fight with him last night and were on his case this morning. He blew up when I tried to ask him about it further. What's going on with you two?"

Harry's eyes flashed, "I didn't pick anything with him! How are you letting him spread lies like that? You know that's not me."

"I know Ron's a prat at times," Hermione assured. "I think Ginny and he, and Neville to a lesser extent, are having a harder time than we are. They grew up knowing of these arrangements and the honor they are meant to entail."

Harry withheld a petulant sneer, "Shouldn't that make them more prepared? Besides, the whole reason Ron's upset with me is because I supposedly knew Snape would be my mentor-"

"Master," she interjected.

"-before him," Harry continued uninterrupted. "The whole thing is stupid. It's not like knowing slightly ahead of time gave me anymore choice than him!"

"Mr. Potter," Pomfrey chided, bustling from her office and over to Harry's bed. She waved her wand over him, "Your pulse is elevated." She whirled on Hermione, "I'll not have you upsetting my patient, Miss Granger. Should you distress him further, I will take things up with your Mistress!"

The teens waited in silence for the matron to fiddle and fuss with Harry's set up and leave before resuming their conversation. Harry bit the inside of his lip, a grin forming on his face.

"What are you snickering about?" Hermione queried, affronted by the Matron's rebuff.

Harry shook his head, "I've been finding humor in odd places, lately."

Hermione glanced over Harry's form, concern showing in her eyes, "Why are you in here, anyway?"

"I think Snape and I's outing is the reason Moody's coming early. We were attacked while shopping off Diagon Alley."

Hermione gasped, "Death Eaters in Diagon Alley?"

Harry shook his head in the negative, "We'd left Diagon Alley for some other robe shop to get me some non school robes."

"Professor Sinistra ordered a custom set from the arithmancy guild to wear outside of school proper," Hermione supplied offhandedly. "Are you alright?"

Harry shrugged, then scratched at the sore muscles in his shoulder with his fingertips, "As well as can be expected after having a roof crumble on top of me." Harry stared at the far wall. "Snape was pretty brilliant, though." Hermione perked up in interest, usually it was like pulling teeth to get Harry or Ron to say anything positive about their dour professor.

"How so?" she asked when Harry didn't continue.

"Well, it all happened so fast, like, faster than last year at the Ministry somehow, maybe because there were less people about fighting. Snape was all over the place, "I think he even lost his wand at one point near the end, but next thing I knew, he was firing off some sort of force that bypassed me completely and went straight for the evil dude. It was almost like it was vibrating through me. It was really wicked. I know we kind of knew it before, but really, Snape's got skills."

"I wonder what sort of spell he used," Hermione pondered aloud, "I would think it'd be dead useful in battle, you could tailor it to not hit your allies, unless it was dark or something."

Harry shook his head, "I doubt even Snape would perform dark magic in front of so many witnesses."

~=PULSE=~

Severus took his time on his trip towards the infirmary. Although he typically played up his reticence to do anything the headmaster requested of him, in the case of Pulsing, his put upon posturing was less posturing than his true opinion.

True, his apprentice wasn't too much older than Severus was when he started, and was in decent shape besides. But, he worried the boy wouldn't have the mental discipline required to Pulse safely and excellently. There was an ever present danger having otherwise could overtax your mind and heart.

And those concerns weren't even taking into account he'd be introducing Harry to the seedy underworld of Dark Magic. Perhaps Severus, himself, would go down in history as the Man who tainted the Boy who lived.

Severus wondered if Dumbledore would be so keen on Harry instruction if he knew of the organized machinations of the Dark wizarding community.

Every person who pulsed with any sort of regularity could then feel the presence of the ability in others who practiced. It was how his "tailor" had identified Severus, and Severus' father, so many years ago, and it was how they would identify Harry if Severus taught him. The Tailor's hooks were invasive and far reaching, the man considered himself the head of their informal organization. Severus snorted at the thought, he only admitted to two masters and the Tailor was not one of them.

Pulsing would indeed be a powerful and effective weapon for his apprentice, but at what cost?

Severus casually rounded a corner. Due to his detour, he was still several floors and corridors from the infirmary. Within an instant, he regretted his travel choice as he came face to face with Auror Moody and the ginger third of the golden trio.

The two older men stopped in each other's paths.

"Professor Moody," Severus greeted neutrally, "I was under the impression you would not be returning until closer to term."

Moody grunted, "Your frolic this afternoon changed my plans. I was called in early to _babysit_ you and Potter."

Severus forced his expression to remain unaggressive, "I suppose that means you'll be spending the majority of your time outside your trunk, as opposed to your last visit. After all, it would be a task indeed to babysit much from inside a 4X4 cube."

Moody snarled as Ron itched towards his wand.

"Dear me," Severus backtracked with mock repentance, "Have I said something to offend you? I do apologize if that is the case."

"I'm watching you, Snape," Moody spat, a bit of spittle flying from his lip and patently heedless of the boy beside him eating the situation up as "proper ways to interact with Snape."

"Hmm," Snape mused, glancing distractedly at the anxious, young wizard, "Well I suppose then it's a good thing your apprentice has plenty of experience following mine around. Perhaps he can give you some pointers on being a shadow." Severus smiled engagingly. He shook his head in amusement, "I am certain your acute paranoia has served you well, Professor, however, this time you have driven yourself around the twist.

"There is very little that goes on here with which the Headmaster is in the unawares. Do you really think he would risk the future generation of our society by allowing me to do anything illegal? In front of the Boy Who Lived, no less?" He smirked, "Trust me, your attentions would be better spent on that one." He nodded in Ron's direction before whirling and stalking off in a flurry of billowing robes.

Moody and Ron glared like a couple of angry crups at the Potions Master's retreating back. Severus smiled to himself at a job well done.

~=PULSE=~

Severus paused just outside the infirmary doors, ears perking at the voices filtering through the portal.

"I honestly expected more from the 'ceremony'," Hermione lifted her hands in air quotes, "when the apprenticeship became official."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I don't know, something more magical than signing a slip of paper and sending it off with a ministry owl." Harry's head tilted in confusion.

"Yours didn't glow silver after both of your bloods were on the paper?"

Hermione looked taken aback. "The blood?"

"Miss Granger," Severus drawled, quickly crossing the small distance from the doors to Harry's bed. He noticed his apprentice's sharp look at his intervention. "I do believe the matters I must speak of with Mr. Potter take precedence over whatever titillating conversation the two of you have struck up." He tilted his head in the direction of the doors. The girl stood quickly, a frown forming on her inquisitive face as she murmured goodbye to Harry and practically fled from the room.

"Mr. Potter," Severus approached the young wizard who straightened his posture in the infirmary bed. "I trust you are feeling well?" Harry nodded warily. One never could be certain what mood you'd catch Snape in.

"You didn't have to be so rude to Hermione," Harry commented sourly.

Severus' eyes shot skyward, "Are you presuming to instruct me how to speak to my students." Within the next instant, the Potion Master's mood lightened exponentially. "Actually, none of your little friends are actually _my _students anymore." He smirked roguishly, "Thank you, Mr. Potter, I believe you did just brighten my day."

Harry's brow furrowed, but he let the other man's demeanor slide. He was, after all, anxious to escape Madame Pomfrey's domain and was equally curious about what the aurors had questioned Snape. Whether or not Snape still considered his friends his students was of little concern to Harry.

"Everything went alright with Dumbledore? Can you tell Madame Pomfrey to let me go?" Harry asked hopefully.

Severus crossed his arms and leaned back against the frame of the bed opposite Harry. "Headmaster Dumbledore. There are certain matters we must discuss. The choice of venue, I shall leave to you."

Harry took a second to translate Snapish to English before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reaching for his shoes. "Anywhere's better than here."

Severus nodded sharply, "I will retrieve Madame Pomfrey for your release."

Severus led Harry down to the main floor of the castle. Harry expected a turn towards the dungeons however a quick hand on his shoulder changed his direction and steered him towards a seldom used corridor whose entrance rested beneath the main stair case.

"Where are we going," Harry looked back at the man who was temporarily behind him. "Sir?" he tacked on at the last minute.

"Memorize this route. You will find _our,_" Harry could actually feel the sneer in that one, "rooms through this corridor. I find it a more convenient route than using the dungeon entrance, and it will spare you from having to traverse Slytherin territory unattended. Mind, do not let anyone follow you to this entrance and during the day, I fully expect you to enter through the dungeon level." The potion master halted before a blank wall and withdrew his wand. He ran the tip along the seam between two layers of stone before placing his free hand palm down upon the same spot.

"Now repeat my actions," he ordered. Harry complied easily. A shock pricked the center of his palm and the tips of each finger; he quickly removed his hand and stared at the offending stone.

"What was that?"

Severus ignored the question and crossed to the opposite wall where a painting of the night sky over a valley shadowed by a tall mountain graced an otherwise unremarkable wall. He clasped his hands behind his back and less than a second later and barely perceptible click was heard. The portrait swung open, and the potions master stepped through, never turning to make sure Harry was following.

"I welcome you to your new arrangements," Severus offered somewhat graciously, Harry could still detect a hint of resentment in the statement.

Harry disregarded the dubious reception in favor of discreetly gaping at the professor's quarters. The color tones were warm, creams gracing the floor and walls while olive rugs and wine throws threw off hospitable accents without seeming Christmas-y. It was a tidy front room which centered around a large fireplace. The most fascinating thing to Harry was how lived-in and homey it all looked, almost as if Snape was a normal person.

"This is brilliant, sir," Harry offered genuinely. Severus, who'd been heading over to one of the arm chairs near the fire, paused and regarded his apprentice shrewdly before nodding once and taking a seat. He gestured for Harry to do the same.

Harry followed, wondering how big the professor's quarters were as he spied a small, wrought iron staircase leading downwards from behind a half wall a meter or so behind Severus' chair. On the other side of the room, an archway served as a gateway to a small kitchen and dining area; in between the two were two doors.

"Is your survey complete?" Severus asked, though not precisely unkindly, once the boy's eyes finally met his own. Harry had the grace to redden and nod. "Very well, I brought you here, to, among other things, discuss what exactly we wish to accomplish in this apprenticeship. Furthermore, we shall come to an accord and abide by that accord for the duration of our interactions." Severus watched as Harry shrank into his chair a little.

"I admit to having had a few conversations on the matter with the Headmaster. He believes our main focus need be on teaching you to better defend yourself. I am inclined to agree, however, I wish to obtain your opinion on the matter." He raised his eyebrows in question. His apprentice refused to meet his gaze.

Harry clasped his hands in front of him and started to pick at his thumbnail, glaring the offending skin into submission. "Defense is always important, and I am good at it. You wouldn't have to work so hard at teaching me." There was a melancholic note to the younger wizard's voice, Severus honed in on it instantly.

"Perhaps you think by agreeing you will get off easy with little work," Severus accused.

Harry's head shot up, eyes widening a bit, "That's not what I meant, at all."

Severus rolled his eyes, "So, you do wish to obtain a mastery of defense? That is well within my abilities to provide. What are your other interests?"

Harry blew the fringe from his eyes. "I like transfiguration, I guess, and well, you are a potions master."

Severus' nose crinkled, "I can offer you private instruction in transfiguration, however, Minerva would need to help you further in order to receive your mastery qualification.

"Potions," he smirked, "will not be a problem." Harry reckoned Severus looked quite smug as he said that. "Is there any other major field?"

Harry shook his head in the negative. "No, I think that'd be it."

"Very well," Severus flicked his wrist, a roll of parchment and quill set sailed through the air. "You and your fellow apprentices will still attend advanced classes in the respective unaddressed subjects. During your free time you will assist me with my classes as well as attend to the different special tasks I will assign you. As for format, we will cover some transfiguration during your Monday spare time, Tuesdays and Thursdays for potions, and Wednesdays and Fridays for Defense. Expect Saturdays to be mostly spent assisting me whereas most Sundays will be left to you." The quill scribbled furiously upon the parchment, outlining a chart and the details of Severus' explanation. "During the Summer, of course, this will be different. In concurrence with the Headmaster, we will be starting with Defense first.

"Do you accept this proposal?" he asked.

Harry, although put out by the distinct implication that his free time would be severely limited, was frankly surprised to receive Sundays off. He also wagered, with the absence of Potions and Defense and a lighted Transfiguration class load, he'd probably have more time available than he expected.

And he doubted Snape would change his mind even if Harry did find fault with the outline.

Harry nodded slowly, "When do you want to start?"

~=PULSE=~

Narcissa Malfoy scowled at the mere thought muggle her husband insisted on bringing into her home. For the past few months Lucius had been obsessing over his latest plan to bring their Lord back and thus ensure the final ascension of the pure people of the wizarding society. Now that he finally had the special man, whom she now knew to be Severus Snape's father, Lucius had taken to locking himself in the library with him for hours on end, emerging each evening with new scrapes and bruises. Quite frankly, Narcissa could not believe the humiliation her proud husband was subjugating himself to. She knew once the Plan was complete, she would take great pleasure in destroying what little remained of the horrible muggle that was Tobias Snape.

"Darling," her husband drawled as he entered the room, "You have that look about you. I've no doubt this forebears trouble for me." His smile was lazy and self assured, but she could see the actual fatigue through any attempt at charming her.

"Another day with that wretched man is over? Have you made any progress," she asked.

"Not as much as is necessary," he sighed. "Soon, my love, soon we will be rid of that vermin." He cupped her face in his large, well-manicured hands, " I know you detest his presence just as I do, however, Snape is an essential key for the return of our Lord."

"The father or the son?" Narcissa asked, flipping her hair to the side as she dislodged her face from Lucius' grip. Lucius, taking no offense, smirked and disrobed on his way to their en suite.

"Hmm, my love, it matters not," he called back, "After all is said and done, neither of them will be our problem anymore. The Dark Lord will flourish, and the Malfoy line will be at his right hand."

~=PULSE=~

Hermione Granger prided herself on being in the know. Let no one be able to accuse her of ignorance, particularly due to her birth origins. When Harry spoke of blood in connection with his paperwork, Hermione felt the ugly beast of unawareness rear its hideous head. She flipped through the book that was quickly earning itself a place on her shelf right next to _Hogwarts: A History_, _The Mastery of Mastery. _

She was keenly aware of the fact that her friends did not share her enthusiasm with regards to their newfound relationships. She was determined to spin everything in a new light for them, to cheer her fellow Gryffindors up. However, what if, in Harry's case particularly, things were more sinister than a simple 'new spin' could resolve.

The Gryffindor shook her head stupidly; wasn't she the one who said serving an apprenticeship with Professor Snape would be an honor? Which it was, the man was more sought after than an elusive chocolate frog card by apprentices and journeymen across Europe. And here she was automatically jumping to the conclusion that the man was being less than ethical regarding Harry's contract.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to research the matter a bit more. Next time she saw Harry, she would get him to describe the use of blood and its effects entirely.

She flipped to the beginning of the book to start her second, more thorough study of the material. The chapter title sparkled up at her: _The Sacred Ties,_ and she sighed. She hoped it was simply ingrained paranoia leading her to suspect ill of her potions professor, if for no other reason than they all deserved a break this year.

**AN: Thanks for reading! Please feel more than free to click that little review button on your screen. Come on, you know you can feel it beckoning…**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Severus squinted menacingly at the far corner of his broom closet cum training room which dared to be bare of his choice floor covering. His wrist flicked upward with his wand rotating in tandem, and the mat he'd placed at his feet stretched and filled the final corner of the square room. The side of his mouth quirked; it would have to do, and he would have to accept the encroachment of his storage space. He refused to teach Potter somewhere where they'd sit at risk to any number of interruptions, such as an unused classroom or, Heaven forbid, the Room of Requirement. His resized closet was without a doubt the most convenient option for them.

All in all, he was quite certain even Minerva couldn't have done a better job of fixing the room. A plush but walkable surface covered much of the floor to absorb any falls that were likely to occur. He left room largely empty for the insertion of any training equipment they may need down the line.

It had been two days since their last real discussion. Severus assumed, as a master, it was his job to seek out and engage his apprentice. Unfortunately, both Potter and he were more than content to avoid each other whenever possible, which was more often than one might expect given they were now living in the same quarters. Never one to shirk his responsibilities when someone else would know of it, Severus knew he'd need to call upon the boy soon.

"Professor?" a voice called from beyond the room. A scruffy head popped around the door frame. The bespectacled boy glanced around the remodeled room. Severus wondered if his apprentice was secretly taking omnipotence lessons with Albus; the Headmaster had the same odd habit of popping up the moment someone even thought his name.

"Are we going to be doing a lot of training in here?" Harry asked.

"Where else would you suggest we go?" Severus sneered, though he did temper much of the expression's sting.

He took in his apprentice's clothing, the boy must have been intending to stay around the rooms that day for he was wearing his new clothes. Severus was noticing he only wore them when his friends would not see them. It irked Severus not leastly since he was the one who purchased them.

Harry shrugged, "I thought we'd just go to the defense classroom for practicals."

"That would be most inconvenient," the professor clipped. "Tell me, have you read through the book I gave you yesterday morning?"

Harry thought back to the very thin tome-let Snape had passed him the day before, before breakfast. Eager to get off on the right foot with the potions master, he'd set straight to reading it after breakfast, much to the amusement of his friends. Unfortunately, most of the book seemed to be written in riddles, and he could hardly make heads or tails of it even after reading it twice. He didn't relish the opportunity to tell Snape that. Instead, he determined vague answers were safer. "I did," he supplied.

"Good," Severus reached for the clasp to his own day robes, "then you won't mind if we start now."

Harry looked wildly, "Start what? The book didn't mention any specifics. I just wanted to ask your permission for something."

Severus cocked his head, "Permission for what? You and your little friends aren't planning anything, are you?"

"No," Harry assured flatly.

The silence stretched between them.

"Well?" Severus demanded, "Ask your bloody question before I take notice of the fact that you obviously didn't study your assignment well enough."

"I was wondering if you might convince Professor Moody to let me speak with Ron," Harry avoided Snape's eyes, hating that he'd been forced to approach Snape just to speak to his erstwhile best friend.

Severus's eyes snapped to his apprentice, "Is he currently restraining you from speaking to the youngest Mr. Weasley?"

"According to Ron, yeah, he is. I'm likely to freeze my bits off with the cold shoulder he's been giving me, and he drags Hermione and Ginny with him whenever he can, as well."

Severus regarded Harry, grimacing at the younger wizard's turn of phrase.

"And you wish me to what exactly? Take Auror Moody to task for not telling Mr. Weasley to play nicely?"

Harry shook his head in indecision, "Yes?"

"Hmm," Severus murmured, "I will make a deal with you. Prove to me now that you have actually read the book and absorbed some iota of information, and I will think about talking to your friend's master."

Harry squinted at the floor and nodded, fingers well and firmly mentally crossed.

Severus directed Harry to stand several feet before him; he straightened the younger wizard's posture with firm hands on Harry's shoulders then moved to stand similarly so.

"I've been watching you for the past couple days," Severus began ominously, "luckily for the both of us your youth coupled with your inability to sit still for more than two moments has led me to believe you are physically capable of leaning, at present, the very most rudimentary aspects of this skill.

"The book I lent you emphasized the foremost importance of concentration did it not?"

Harry furrowed his brow minutely; he supposed that could've been what the author was hinting at. "Er- yes?" he answered.

Severus let the uncertainty pass without comment.

"With practice, the concentration will become second nature; the hundredth time you call your magic to your will will be far easier than the first." Severus noted Harry's confusion and swallowed the instinct to chastise in favor of continuing. "Perhaps it would be better to learn by application?" He tried to make the question sound as gracious as possible. He had the unfortunate inkling he'd failed as his student looked even shiftier than before.

"Very well," Severus continued, taking Harry's silence for agreement. "Remember your reading and call your magic to you." He stepped back and watched Harry expectantly.

Hermione pulled another thick book from the high shelf in the restricted section. Being an apprentice to a Hogwarts professor brought more than one benefit. Her new status as "junior staff" coupled with her mentor's high level of trust in her granted her nearly unrestricted access to the normally off limits sections of the library.

The whole situation was quite fortuitous as she couldn't get her earlier conversation with Harry out of her mind. There was no reasonable explanaton as to why Harry's arrangement would be any more magically involved than her own. Hermione's agreement consisted solely of sitting down with Professor Sinistra, deciding what they wanted to accomplish, first overall and then specifically for the first year, and then signing a contract to that effect. All of it was very straightforward. There were no glowing papers or symbolic completions.

It was the blood factor in Harry's contract that bothered her most. Based on Hermione's admittedly limited practical knowledge of the wizarding world, particularly with contracts, blood contracts were never a positive sign in any arrangement. And since she knew Harry would never give it another thought until something came around to bite him in his fleshy posterior, it was up to Hermione to protect him once again regardless of any previous trust she may have placed in Professor Snape.

She flipped to the table of contents and began reading.

"Please stop telling me to clear my mind," Harry begged in exasperation.

Severus sharply turned from Harry, his robes snapping around his ankles. He clinched his hands rhythmically in an attempt to ease his frustration. He turned back to his apprentice.

The boy had his eyes scrunched, forehead wrinkled with concentration, and hands thrown out before him. Severus tilted his head to the side as Harry's face grew redder and redder.

"What on Earth are you doing?" he asked.

Harry peeked one eye open, "I'm trying to throw my magic, what else?"

Harry's hands began to shake with the muscle strain. Unfortunately, Severus knew the younger wizard was more likely to pull a muscle than produce a successful pulse.

"Stop, stop, Potter. Please just stop whatever it is you think you are doing before you hurt yourself." Severus rubbed the space between his eyes in an attempt to ward off a migraine. He cursed Dumbledore for throwing him into this. Severus remembered taking to pulsing like a crup to some of Molly Weasley's table scraps. By the end of his first day practicing with his father, the elder Snape and he were able to play an easy game of catch.

He could not fathom what hold up was keeping the Harry from any sort of progress. He expected Harry's current aptitude (or lack thereof) in Potions, not in something so similar to Defense. What was more, his instincts, and that he'd seen the boy wandlessly defend himself against his grandfather's machinations, told him Harry could leave the runway soaring in the skill, if only he just learned to flap. The thought of, dare he say it, faith in Harry's skills left a sour taste in Severus' mouth, though he supposed he should be proud since the boy was, after all, his very own apprentice.

Facing away from Harry, he pulled in a deep breath. "What," he gritted through clinched teeth, "seems to be where you're finding a problem?"

Harry glared at the floor, shaking out his arms. So far, all he'd succeeded in was getting his arse thrown to the mat a few times followed by a hopping forty five minutes of nothing as Severus tried to get Harry to throw his own pulses. His professor had even, oh so generously, lessened his own throws, and then it became obvious Harry would not be able to catch even the gentler ones.

"You say clear your mind and concentrate. I did read the book, Professor, I really did. I just," Harry took a calming breath as he prepared to admit the most cardinal sin of potions class, "I didn't understand it."

Severus felt the vein in his forehead twitch; they had been at it for nearing an hour and now the boy just says, "I don't get it."

"Fine," Severus snapped curtly. He paced back and forth across the mat searching for a new approach. A light bulb illuminated above his head. "Potter, just forget the book," he ordered. "Forget what it said, forget what I said. Remember the feeling in my grandfather's test room." He tapped his lips quickly as he thought the possibilities through. "Wandless magic is in itself a unique and difficult skill to develop. However, it is not so unique that there are no similar practices. Pulsing can almost be called a variation of it. Admittedly, there are certain key differences; however, since you stumbled into your wandless capabilities with characteristic blind luck, pulsing should not be outside your grasp.

"Now, recall the precise sensations you experienced when you produced your Patronus. What do you remember?"

Harry rubbed absently at his recently bandage free arms. "It burned. My entire arm felt like it was heating up."

"And when you cast a spell with your wand, what do you feel?" Severus urged.

"What do I feel?" Harry repeated.

Severus huffed, feeling for all the world like a penny psychiatrist, "Yes, Potter, what do you feel? How do you feel? You do feel something, boy, don't you? You don't just go bodily numb for the half second it takes to wave your wand?"

"Stop getting ticked," Harry protested, hands raised as he sensed a Snape snit on the horizon, "I never really stopped to think about it."

"Then cast a lumos and _think _about it."

Harry took out his wand. He felt the wood warm in his hand as usual. He rotated his wrist and quietly enchanted the spell, lighting the tip of the device. He concentrated on the feeling at his fingertips, tracing it back through his hand and up his arm. It was beyond faint and nearly too familiar to take note of, but he could see where Snape was going. When he cast the lumos, the feeling was like a muted variation of the wandless Patronus Charm.

"It's similar," he said softly, feeling as if he for once got something under Severus' instruction right.

Since the younger wizard's head was bowed, Severus allowed himself a congratulatory smirk; they could only build from here. First, he'd have his apprentice get a handle on wandless magic. Then they'd move on to pulsing proper. Dare he say it, the boy's feathers were indeed beginning to grow.

Harry collapsed into an open chair beside Hermione amongst his friends at Gryffindor table, noting all were present and accounted for with the exception of Ron who was more than likely touring the aurory with Mad-Eye's old partner whilst his master was otherwise occupied. The other Gryffindors (Ravenclaw, and the Slytherin seated several places down) had been cheerfully kicked out of the staff room so that the "senior" staff could have one of their summer bimonthly meetings. Harry was simply happy for the chance to escape Snape's now regular morning training session. Neglecting the spread presented for their breakfast, Harry folded in on himself and buried his face upon his crossed arms.

"Well, I can't believe forcing us into school during the summer can be legal," Harry murmured to the table top.

Across the table, Neville paused, spoon halfway to his mouth, "I don't know, Harry, it's not so bad. This morning, before sunrise, Professor Sprout showed me these fungi, the Amanita muscaria veneficus, that when agitated releases a spore that causes hallucinations even under the briefest of contact. Normally-"

"We get it, Neville," Ginny interrupted sourly, "you love plants, Sprout loves plants, and life is great. Some of us aren't quite so lucky and would rather be at home during the summer hols instead of stuck at Hogwarts. Although," a catty sneer inched its way to the corner of her mouth, "I bet Hermione nearly wets herself every morning at the thought of another day at Hogwarts near all those yummy library books." At the last moment she smiled playfully in a mocking attempt to pass her words off as jest.

Hermione folded her fingers over the top of her borrowed book and leveled a cool gaze on the ginger Gryffindor, "Well, Ginny, perhaps if you paid more attention to Professor Flitwick instead of whether or not I'm _wetting my pants_ you'd be having a better go at it and, in turn, would be _happier._" She shrugged and smiled before looking back to her book.

"Charms for the charming, Ginerva," Luna offered whilst playing with her fork. After several seconds of contemplation upon the utensil, she set it down and started eating with a curved shell off her necklace.

Harry moved his arms and allowed his head to bang against the table.

"You need to eat, Harry," Hermione chided when it became obvious her friend would happily bypass the meal in favor of a quick nap.

Harry grunted and pulled his plate back towards him before reaching blindly for a serving spoon. Briefly a vision of a Snape and hassle free day flashed before his eyes. Smirking to himself, he mechanically started eating with a dare to dream.

In what seemed a past life, Tobias Snape had been the dutiful son of a World War I veteran. Later, he'd honed all of the traits he'd picked up from his father's military background while practicing his own "muggle" brand of magic. So, it was with muted amusement he endured the likes of the wizard Lucius Malfoy.

The man was dangerous, no doubt, but with such an overinflated sense of worth that Tobias had trouble taking the man seriously. However, he admitted, he did need the wizard's help.

From strategically posed and misleading questions to the various manor occupants (most of which were baffling creatures called house elves), he learned many different things.

He'd learned his father-in-law was still in charge of his bodyguard company. His son, Severus, never had much contact with his family, neither his grandfather nor his mother. Tobias assumed this meant Eileen was thus tucked away by her father and, therefore, out of Tobias' reach should he escape Malfoy Manor. His conclusion – Tobias would be unable to obtain aid from his wife.

Severus, the one Tobias remembered, at any rate, would never allow Marcus Prince to control his life whether they were in close contact or from afar. His son was now a teacher at that school, Hogwarts, a place where Tobias had never been and did not know how to find. Conclusion – whilst Severus might not be as unwilling as Malfoy alluded to helping him, he was still largely inaccessible.

His final obstacle discovered from his reconnaissance, was in the continuance of his erstwhile brethren's organization. It was only a short matter of time before they started searching for him. There was no love lost between Tobias and their leader, assuming it was the same man as when Tobias fell into his coma. They likely would have some sort of capture or kill order on his neck.

So for the time being, he needed Malfoy's protection. The only way out he could see would be to build up his own strength before dispatching of the list of enemies he'd acquired.

Severus swooped into the usual training room, a scowl already fixed upon his face despite the early hour and absence of the _other_ dunderheads, as Harry had often heard his friends described. Atypically, Harry was there waiting for him. He'd decided the only way to really not be late in Snape's book was to be ridiculously early. Since he'd been up early anyway, he tried his hand at beating his mentor at his own game.

"You're late, Professor," he informed cheekily. "Have you been able to talk to Professor Moody, yet?"

Severus gave a half-hearted snarl in Harry's direction before withdrawing an envelope from his robes. "Have you proven to me you are capable of pulsing, yet? I will speak with Mr. Weasley's instructor once I am convinced you are on the right path. Until then, you do not need any additional distractions.

"On another note, I received a missive from Madame Malkin. Your robes are ready to be retrieved from her store. Perhaps we will not go today, but instead you can spend your time scrubbing the dungeon floors?"

Harry's mouth twitched as he repressed a grimmace, "No, sir.

"Why didn't she just send them with the post?"

Severus tilted his head as was his wont when he thought someone was being particularly dense, "Were you or were you not present when we last attended her shop. The woman holds a specific and passionate dislike for me. Her admiration for you does not negate it.

"We will be forced to retrieve them in person."

Harry perked up, "So, no lesson this morning?" He felt a small twinge of annoyance since he was already dressed in his sweats and trainers, but he could overlook that if it meant he didn't have to spend his morning repeatedly failing to produce Snape's desired results.

Severus smirked evilly at the boy's excitement. "I would never neglect your instruction, Mr. Potter," he assured innocently. Harry's face fell almost comically. "Of course, we will have our lesson before we go."

**Thanks for reading. Please read and review to let me know what you think. **

**This story won't be abandoned, I've got the entire thing outlined, it's just finding the time to write that is my issue. So, I apologize for the time between updates and hope you'll bear with me.**

**On a side note, apparently the athletes at my uni call non-athletes muggles. Every time one of my friends say it, I have the nearly inescapable urge to come back with, "Yer, a wizard, Harry," of course in a Hagrid-esque type voice. Then they look at me weird. :)**

**3/20/2012 – revised.**


End file.
